3 Point 3 Days
by Upandatem
Summary: This story starts immediately after the scene where Hanson captures Amy's killer in episode Orpheus 3.3. Lots of angst as Hanson completes his mental breakdown. T for some language.
1. Chapter 1

**Takes place right after Hanson captures Amy's killer in Orpheus 3.3. Loads and loads of angst.**

**Chapter 1: 0.3 Days**

Hanson lowered his gun and let his arm drop listlessly to his side. He stared off into the bay giving no indication that he saw Amy's killer smiling at him as he was marched down the stairs or that Fuller was there watching him.

"Good work, Hanson," Fuller said carefully.

"Thanks," Hanson replied automatically.

"You did everything a good cop is supposed to."

Hanson dropped his head. He didn't believe one word Fuller had just said so just stayed silent.

"Did you get back that 3.3 seconds?"

Hanson thought about it. Everything he had done the last week didn't bring Amy back. He shook his head and looked up at Fuller, "No."

Hanson looked back out at the bay again and felt himself waver a bit. He felt so tired. He was only vaguely aware that it was snowing and that he had only a bloody shirt on. It was not nearly enough to keep him warm but he felt numb so it didn't really matter. He felt Fuller gently touch his right hand and remove the gun from it and then put his hand around his arm and start to guide him towards the stairs. He blindly followed Fuller's lead without complaint. All the fight in him was gone. Now that Amy's killer was caught, all Hanson wanted to do was crawl into a hole and disappear.

Somehow the two of them made it down off the boat and over to the waiting entourage of swirling red, white and blue lights and shadowy figures running around in the dark barking orders that Hanson couldn't understand. Fuller made him sit down on something hard and said something about staying there until he got back. Hanson closed his eyes and lowered his head. He felt himself shaking but didn't feel like the shaking was caused entirely from the light snow gathering on his shoulders and hair. His training told him he was in shock. Finally, he was in shock. He no longer had the strength to force himself to breathe, or move, or pretend that he was okay. He wasn't okay. The world had collapsed burying him under its mountains of rubble.

He heard familiar voices near him but didn't bother trying to make out what they were saying. A blanket made its way onto his shoulders then an arm around his waist pulled him to his feet. His left arm sang out in pain from the sudden movement and he grimaced.

_Oh, yeah, there's a hole in my arm._

"Man, I'm sorry. You okay? Can you walk?" Ioki said from somewhere on his right.

Hanson couldn't respond at first. Excruciating pain was shooting up his arm and down his back.

"We need to get you back to the hospital," Ioki continued, "You're freezing out here. Your lips are blue."

_Hospital? _

Suddenly the world came crashing back to glaring clarity again. If he goes back to the hospital, he'll be on display again for everyone to poke and prod and give sorrowful faces and comments to. No fucking way was he going back there. He pulled himself out of Ioki's grasp and had to catch himself before he collapsed on the sidewalk.

"No, I'm not going back there." he told Ioki forcefully but Harry grabbed his right arm and held onto him tightly.

"Hanson, you need to go back. You're getting hypothermia out here. You can hardly stand up."

Hanson felt cold sweat gathering on his back under his arms and his heart rate and breathing double in the matter of seconds. He yanked his arm back but Ioki wouldn't let go.

"I'm NOT going back there. Please just leave me alone." Hanson could hear his voice chatter from the cold and stress. His plea obviously wasn't going to be a convincing argument.

"Hanson, calm down. Breathe. Let's just get in the car and get out of here, okay?"

Ioki started to pull on his arm but Tom stood fast not willing to give up the little control he had left. That was until Fuller came back and grabbed onto the back of his shirt on his left side not wanting to touch the arm that he had been shot in and both Fuller and Ioki pulled him in the direction of a waiting squad car.

"Tom," Fuller said to him as they made their way to the car, "you're going back to the hospital."

Hanson tried to slow down his panicked breathing. He did not like Fuller's tone of voice. It sounded like the way he talked to children….or victims. The only reason he didn't protest as he was put into the backseat of the car was that he didn't want to attract any more attention to himself. He already knew everyone was watching him. Dozens of eyes were on him. They were eyes of pity and they were entranced. They couldn't tear themselves away from watching him fall apart. They wanted the freak show. Just like when his dad died.

Oh, god. What did he do? His dad would have never let Amy die. How could he ever face anyone again knowing what a failure he was. He let her die. He watched her die. He held her in his arms as she took her last breath. Her blood had been all over him. On his arms, his face, his clothes, his shoes. He doesn't even remember the guy leaving the store. Why didn't he go after him then? Why did he just stand there and watch while they took pictures of her lifeless body and put her in a bag to be stored in a refrigerator. Her blood everywhere. Hanson felt like he was on the verge of emitting the scream of horror that he had been holding back for a week but nothing would come out. No scream. No tears. He was frozen. Catatonic. The only movements he made beyond the uncontrollable shaking were short shallow periodic gasps that substituted for actual breathing.

Ioki got in the car along with a uniformed officer and Hanson heard sirens on top of him signaling that the squad was rushing him back to the hospital. _Oh, goody._ Ioki gave him little uncertain statements of solace and tried to touch him but Hanson pushed him off. No one should touch him ever again. He was poison.

As soon as they arrived at the hospital, the cop that drove them there jumped out and ran inside. Like flies coming to consume a carcass, within seconds several people were on the car forcefully hauling Hanson out of it and onto a gurney. He barely had time to realize what was going on when the world spun out of control and then was gone.

**End of Chapter 1**

**Reviews? Should I continue?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry about the long hiatus. Work and life got in the way. For those of you who have been good enough to keep sending me encouragement, I greatly appreciate it!**

**Something I forgot to do for chapter 1: I don't own anything here so please don't sue me if I just want to borrow Tom Hanson and 21 Jump Street for awhile.**

**Chapter 2: Still 0.3 Days**

Someone moved his arm and the pain brought him harshly back into consciousness. Hanson clinched his teeth to suppress a cry from leaving his mouth and he tried to open his eyes but it felt like someone was holding them shut. God, he was tired. He tried again putting all his concentration into the effort and finally opened his eyes and saw that he was back in the emergency room. His breathing seemed to be more normal but he could feel himself still shaking and the pain in his arm seemed to have tripled from when he was first shot. He didn't mind the pain so much though. What he hated was being touched and what he despised even more was the patronizing tones of voice that people were now using on him to mask their fear of dealing with someone who was in the middle of having a breakdown. He never knew he'd want anything as much as he wanted to be left alone right now.

Even though his body felt like it was being held down by the weight of the entire building, he tried to sit up but hands pushed him firmly back against the pillows that were propping him in a half sitting position.

"Officer Hanson, you need to lie back," a nurse said as she continued to hold him on the bed. "We're going to get you warmed up and then back upstairs to rest. The doctor will be back in a few minutes to check on you. Do you need anything?"

He shook his head. Realizing that fighting was probably only going to bring along more unwanted attention, he gave in and let his eyes fall closed. He focused on the shivering that was still wracking his already exhausted body to see if he could get it to stop.

Satisfied that he wasn't going to move, the nurse let go of his shoulders and she and two other people put his arm back in a sling and wrapped him in warm blankets. Once they were done, a soft warm hand touched his face. He shied away from it and slowly forced his eyes open again. It was the same nurse.

"Sweetheart, I'm going to get you some juice. Do you need anything else right now?"

He shook his head and closed his eyes once more and heard them leave the room. Thinking he was alone, Hanson allowed just a tiny bit of his overbrimming grief to spill out. He sniffed back tears but then, to his horror, he heard light breathing and became aware that there was someone still in the room. He opened his eyes and looked around until his eyes found Ioki sitting on a stool near the end of the bed.

"Hey," Ioki said quietly. It was clear that he was uncomfortable being there and didn't know what to say. Ioki tried to look at him but didn't quite succeed in making eye contact.

Hanson closed his eyes again in an attempt to make himself or everything else disappear. He didn't have the energy to try to act normal and he hated to be seen when he was so emotionally weak.

"Ioki, please go away."

"Hanson, it's okay to be upset."

"Don't pull that fucking Psych 101 shit on me. Get out. Leave me alone." Hanson said louder than he thought was possible at the moment. Deep down he felt bad for raising his voice. He was only trying to help after all but Hanson didn't want his help and at this point was willing to do whatever was necessary to get rid of him.

There was a long silence but finally Harry gave a defeated, "okay, I'll be outside if you need anything," and left the room.

Hanson rolled onto his right side and pulled his legs up to his chest the best he could taking care that his injured arm wasn't jarred. He closed his eyes even tighter and tried to get control over the immense pain that was consuming his chest. He felt the impending explosion of grief trying desperately to get out but he couldn't let it. He was terrified about what might happen if he ever let something that huge out of him.

After what seemed an eternity, the warm blankets seemed to be helping reduce his shivering and he started to feel the calming effects that only solitaire could bring him. Just when he felt he was gaining some real control over his emotions though, Dr. Enlow, the department psychiatrist, knocked on the door and walked into the room. He was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt and didn't look nearly as official as in their first meeting but Hanson knew Enlow still held real power over him. Enlow could make a decision to lock him up in the hospital. He could have his badge taken away from him. All he had to do was sign a piece of paper and it would be done.

Hanson pushed away the nagging voice that told him to run and hide forever and sat up on the bed putting on the best "I'm fine" face that he could manage.

"Hello, Tom. How are you feeling?"

"Tired but okay." Tom said calmly. He'd learned that if he gave a little, people were much more likely to miss the big stuff. He just hoped it would work on Enlow.

Enlow sat down on the bed side of the bed and folded his hands as he surveyed him. It took a huge effort but Hanson looked him straight in the eyes. It was another trick he'd learned being undercover. People expect you to avoid eye contact when you're trying to hide something so instead look them in the eye and lie your heart out. The vast majority of the time, they'll believe you.

"You know, one of the things that makes my job challenging is working with undercover cops. The department does too good of a job teaching you kids how to control yourselves under stress." Enlow reached over and put two fingers on Hanson's wrist to take his pulse. _Shit. _Even though Hanson was managing to keep his exterior calm, his heart was racing at top speed as his fight or flight reflex went into action. He pulled his wrist away but not before Enlow was able to get a good read on his heartbeat.

Enlow didn't react to the rejection and refolded his hands.

"What happened tonight?"

"I got him," Tom replied.

"How do you feel about that?"

"Good….. Look, I'm okay. Just a little tired."

"Tom, you witnessed your girlfriend's murder. You went after her murderer not once, but twice without permission or backup. You've been shot. Based on the dark circles around your eyes, I'd say your also suffering from nightmares and insomnia. You just had a panic attack and lost consciousness for a full ten minutes and if your heart rate is any indicator, you're on your way to having another attack. You are certainly NOT okay."

Hanson stared back at Enlow but didn't respond. He actually felt himself calm as the accusation reminded him to reinforce his mental barriers. All of the emotions that had been screaming to get out were finally smashed into silence and all that remained was numbness and fatigue. He leaned back against the pillows and allowed his eyes to close once more.

"Tom, open your eyes. I need you to look at me."

The numbness didn't last long. Like being on a mental slingshot, Tom felt anger rise up within him. He was not in any mood for this shrink shit. He began to wonder if Enlow had taken Psych 101 with Ioki.

Without opening his eyes, he answered quietly, "Please leave me alone."

"Tom, open your eyes," Enlow said more forcefully.

"Please just leave me alone."

"I'm not going to leave. Open your eyes and look at me."

Hanson felt hands on his face and he snapped. Why the fuck couldn't people just go away and let him shrivel up like he wanted to do? He bolted up in the bed and pushed Enlow's hands away just barely stopping himself from shoving Enlow completely off the bed.

"DON'T TOUCH ME! GO AWAY!"

Hanson swung his legs off the bed with the intention of running the hell out of there but vertigo hit him like a brick and his legs gave away as soon as they touched the floor. He dropped hard hitting the middle of his back against the bottom of the tray table that was next to the bed and partially catching himself with his injured arm crippling him even more with pain. He slowly sat up throwing the blankets off of him and pulled his legs to chest to try to make himself as small as possible while the world continued to swirl and then went blurry with tears. He buried his head in his knees to try to steady himself and pulled himself into an even tighter ball.

His body was now completely out of his control. He was shaking and gasping for air. He flinched and hissed inward as Enlow checked his back for damage from falling so hard on it. He could feel blood dripping down his back and his arm throbbed painfully all the way down to his fingertips. There were voices again calling his name but Hanson ignored them wanting to forget where he was. He felt a blanket and arms being wrapped around him and then a prick of something in his hip. It didn't take long for him to realize that they had given him something to calm him down and he couldn't help but lean against whoever was holding him as he felt himself floating. While he drifted off, his emotional boomerang filled him with gratitude towards whoever had just given him a way to be alone even if it was just in his own head.

**End of Chapter 2**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: 1.3 Days**

"Doug! What the hell are you still doing at home?"

Doug rolled his eyes and covered his ears with his hands as Dorothy's shrill voice echoed through the apartment. He was sitting on the couch in his 'trucks and airplanes' pajamas watching cartoons. Dorothy had just gotten out of the shower and she was wrapped up in a towel like a burrito, her hair still dripping wet and hanging limply in her eyes.

Doug put on the most puppy dog face he could muster. "What? It's Saturday. I always watch cartoons on Saturdays."

Dorothy stomped over to the couch and picked up the remote control for the TV. She turned off the Rocky and Bullwinkle episode by shoving the remote towards the TV as if she were trying to stab it then threw the remote at Doug as hard as she could. He flinched and caught the remote just before it knocked him in the cheek.

Well, that certainly worked to get his attention. Doug looked at Dorothy innocently even though he knew damn well what the problem was.

Dorothy stared fire tipped daggers back at him as she tapped her foot, hands on her hips. "How could you be such a jerk? Tommy's in the hospital and you're sitting here on your ass watching cartoons! What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Look, I told him if he wanted to talk…."

"And what the hell was he supposed to do with that empty little statement? You're a selfish bastard, you know that?"

Doug stared back at her. Yep, he knew _that_. He had been Hanson's partner for almost two years and he had seen him go through some hard crap. But, the amount of pain and desperation that Doug had seen in Hanson's eyes during the past few days was too much to bear. Doug didn't have a clue how to handle it so he just didn't and hoped Hanson would get over it soon so they could go back to being partners and friends. Was that a selfish thing to expect after what had happened? You betcha.

Doug shrugged his shoulders in mock indifference. "If he wanted me to help, he would have asked for it. If you're so worried, why don't you go see him?"

That was obviously the wrong thing to say. Dorothy picked up everything within reach and threw it at him. He deflected the incoming projectiles as best he could while remaining stationary on the couch waiting for her rant to end and for her to stomp out of the apartment like she normally would. With every throw she spouted a more colorful and creative expletive at him. After running out of items small enough to pick up, Doug thought that might have been it but nope. Dorothy had more and this time she added tears for effect.

"Tommy's the best friend you've ever had and probably will ever have. He puts up with your shit for god knows what reason and you just ignore him when something bad happens to him. He's been all alone, Doug. No wonder he's freaking out and the shrink is keeping him in the hospital. Sure can't trust his partner to watch out for him."

The last sentence hit the nerve Dorothy had been aiming for. Doug scowled and jumped up from the couch sending all of Dorothy's weapons of mass destruction bouncing and rolling across the floor.

"FINE! I'M UP! ARE YOU HAPPY?"

Dorothy sniffed and said much more quietly, "No, I'm not. Not until you promise me that you'll go see him and you won't act like THIS in front of him. I know you're better than that, Doug."

"Yeah, whatever," Doug grumbled as he made his way over towards the loft to get dressed.

He slumped his shoulders and shuffled his feet along the floor to communicate to Dorothy that he was not happy at all about having to get dressed and leave the apartment, especially to go to what was most likely going to be a very uncomfortable and awkward visit to Hanson. That was if Hanson is even being allowed visitors. Doug sincerely hoped he wasn't. As much as Doug loved Tommy, he hated emotional stuff like this and wanted to be as far away from it as possible.

**End of Chapter 3**

**So, I'm having a bit of a hard time with this story. I have the next chapter written but the chapter after that I've rewritten once already. I know where I want to take the story but don't know how to get there yet. Yikes. Reviews keep me motivated so please contribute if you like it! Thanks for reading.**


	4. Chapter 4

**I apologize for the short chapters. The next one will be longer (I think anyway).**

**Chapter 4: 1.3 Days (cont.)**

Doug took his time getting ready to go to the hospital driving Dorothy up the wall and eventually out of the apartment. He took an extra long shower and caught up on several neglected personal hygiene to-dos. Once he finally made it onto his hog, he took as many detours as he possibly could think of including stopping to pick Hanson up some Rocket Dog telling himself he was doing it in case Hanson was hungry when really it was just another way to waste twenty minutes. When he could delay the inevitable no longer, he parked his Harley far away from the hospital entrance and walked very slowly to the building.

He made it to Hanson's room easy enough after another detour but stopped outside of it to take in a breath or two. His heart was beating furiously. What the hell was he supposed to say? Not coming up with anything, he decided to "fuck it" and knocked on the door before letting himself in. The room was bright and way too white. He looked at the bed and saw that Hanson was sleeping. Doug let out a breath. This was going to be easier than he had thought as long as Hanson stayed asleep.

Doug sat down in a chair that was sitting near the window and realized that he had forgotten the hot dog and fries on his bike. Oh, well. Hanson probably wouldn't eat any of it anyway. Deciding he'd hang around for a few minutes then leave, he looked around the room for something to do. Hanson had been moved to a private room that was very bare and boring. Without spending much time pondering what had happened to all the cards and flowers that had been in his last room that Doug had very briefly visited, Doug's eyes moved over to look at Hanson. He was partially propped up by pillows and his face was turned slightly towards where Doug was sitting. He looked like shit. The dark circles around his eyes made him appear pale and almost gaunt. The expression on his face gave away that his sleeping was neither peaceful nor pain free. His left arm was in a sling and they had put him back on an IV.

Doug put his elbows on his knees and leaned forward to rub the stress out of his eyes. After what seemed like hours but was probably only a few minutes, Doug heard a gasp come from the bed. He shot his head up in time to see Hanson's eyes pop open and move around the room then close tightly again. He rolled slightly onto his right side and moved his legs up towards his chest but didn't open his eyes again. A nurse poked her head in the door but then smiled at Doug and left before saying or doing anything.

Doug didn't know what to do. Was Hanson awake or did he just move in his sleep? Damn, he looked so hurt. At this thought, the guilt that he'd been explaining away rushed in to fill Doug's chest. This was his partner lying here. You never EVER leave your partner behind. Doug still didn't know what to do but he was now sure that he wasn't going to slither out of the hospital room without talking to him. It took him several false starts but finally he built up the courage to address his partner.

"Hey, you awake?"

Hanson's eyes slowly opened and moved over to where Doug was sitting.

"Hey," Hanson's voice was hoarse from either overuse or underuse. Whatever it was, he looked and sounded exhausted.

Doug ventured, "You, um, ok? You need anything?"

The retort was a little stronger but still halfhearted. "Yeah, I need people to stop asking me that."

Doug snorted involuntarily. He didn't really think it was funny but didn't know what reaction was most appropriate for the occasion so went with his first inclination.

"Penhall, you mind if I just go back to sleep? They gave me some kind of sleeping shit again."

"Yeah, man, that's fine. You want me to go?"

Hanson's eyes closed again and there was a pause before a quiet reply, "Can you turn on something on the TV? Maybe there's a bowling tournament."

Knowing Hanson, that was a request to stay. Well, normally it would have been but Doug threw his doubts aside.

"Bowling?" Doug faked exasperation at Hanson's request. Internally, he debated what to do. This was an ongoing argument for them when they hung out with one another and it normally ended in a wrestling match. Should he give in since Hanson had had such a crappy week?

Nahhhh…

"No, way. Uh, uh," Doug continued. "If you want _bowling_, you're going to have to fight me for the remote."

Doug moved to take the TV/bed/help button controller from under Hanson's right hand but without opening his eyes, Hanson gripped it tightly just as Doug touched it. Any remaining hesitation Doug had abated and he pried the controller out of Hanson's hand lingering his hold on him for just a second when he felt how hot he was (should he tell someone?) then turned on the TV and flipped the channels until he found 'Voltron: Defender of the Universe' playing. Once he was satisfied that he found something that Hanson hated but was forced to watch regularly anyway, he looked at Hanson's face and saw that his eyes were still closed but his mouth had the slightest of smiles on it. The smile faded into sleep and Doug sat back in the chair.

That hadn't been so bad.

**End of Chapter 4**


	5. Chapter 5

**Many apologies for such a long delay in updating. This chapter is quite a bit longer which hopefully is good enough to make up for my hiatus. Enjoy and please make my day bright by sending a review!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own this made-up world. Stephen Cannell and Patrick Hasburgh do (or did?). My deepest thanks to both of them.  
**

**Chapter 5: 2.3 Days**

The next morning, Hanson woke up with a start to an empty room and he sighed in relief. He had been up most of the night but finally had fallen asleep close to dawn. He suspected his mom had fallen asleep as well somewhere in the hospital so now he'd at least have a little time to come up with a strategy for the day before his mom and Enlow and whoever the hell else thinks they should "stop by" to make themselves feel better shows up. He just hoped it wouldn't be a repeat of the day before. Enlow had pushed him gently but relentlessly and he had eventually given in and started talking to him. He still opted in some instances to tell Enlow what he thought they both wanted to hear and maybe not the truth which in the end had only accomplished to exhaust both of them when Enlow wouldn't let the little white lies lie. By the end of the morning, there had been no "breakthroughs" and thankfully no panic attacks but he had felt like crap nonetheless and all he wanted to do was escape and sleep. It was then that Enlow discovered that he was running an impressive fever and promptly put him on heavy doses of antibiotics which only made him feel sick so Enlow threw a sedative on top of that. At least the cocktail had helped knock him out for most of the rest of the day and gave him an excuse to ignore everyone. His recollection of what had happened that afternoon and evening was kind of blurry. His mom was there most of the time. Hoffs, Ioki and Penhall briefly visited at different times but Penhall was the only one who seemed to act halfway normal. That was, if he was remembering the visit correctly. Other than that? Well, honestly, what did it really matter?

He shifted his weight and started to try to get off the bed. He had to pee and had a pressing albeit fleeting thought about finding a way out of the hospital again. The sling and IV were a pain in the ass though and he struggled for a short time before a nurse with too warm of a smile came in the room.

"Good morning, honey. Can I help you up?"

Damn it. The nurses' reactions were too fast. He was pretty sure that there was some kind of alarm that told them when he moved. So much for any thoughts of new escapes. He ignored the nurse for a few seconds as he tried to untangle his legs from the blankets but then gave up. He smirked and almost laughed out loud. The situation he had found himself in was so horrific he couldn't help but find it comical, in a sick sort of way anyway. The smile quickly left him though. How dare he find anything funny or feel sorry for himself when Amy was rotting in the ground?

Without waiting for him to actually ask for help, the nurse came to the bed and helped him out and onto his feet. Once he was upright though, he felt very sick and the blood rushed from his head. The nurse grabbed onto his arm to steady him.

"Do you want to sit back down again for a minute?" the nurse asked as she pushed some of his sticky hair out of his face.

"I just stood up too quickly. Sorry." he replied trying not to flinch or pull away from her touch. Even though he didn't want to, he sat back down on the bed and swallowed hard to try to will the vertigo away.

"It's okay, hun. You had close to a 103 degree temperature for much of the night and your temperature is still higher than normal. You have the right to feel unsteady on your feet," the nurse rambled as she fussed around him. "You might feel a bit better with a bath and some fresh clothes. Would you like to do that?"

Hanson nodded his head to try to get her to stop talking. She was nice enough and wasn't overbearing; he just didn't want to deal with anyone. She must have gotten the hint because she stopped talking and quietly stood by his side until he felt stable enough to move.

After a minute, he was about to stand up again when there was a light knock on the door. He looked up and his breathing stopped. Amy's sister, Beth, was standing in the doorway looking at him. Hanson lowered his gaze to the floor unable to breathe. He was not prepared for this. He was in a sticky, sweaty hospital gown. He had little use of his arms. Waves of dizziness were hitting him as a result of the infection and antibiotics. And what was he supposed to say to her? He was falling through an endless pit so how could he possibly make things better for her? Maybe she came here to revenge her sister. Hell, he'd welcome that over the real reason she probably was there. He felt his heart rate racing again and his breathing continued to be elusive. Shit. He was going to have another panic attack before she even walked in the door.

The nurse noticed and put her hands on his shoulders to keep him on the bed before he tipped over onto the floor. With a few forced deep breaths that Enlow had told him to take if he started panicking again, he felt himself calm a little and was able to look up at the door again. Beth was still there but she hadn't moved from the doorway. He tried to read what was on her face. Fear? That was clear enough. Disgust at his weakness? Probably. Anger? Most definitely.

"Excuse me?" the nurse asked bringing Hanson out of his thoughts. She was addressing Beth. "May I help you?"

Hanson looked at Amy's sister for just a second longer before saying, "It's okay. Beth, you can come in."

The nurse looked between the two of them uncertainly. "I'm sorry but could you wait outside for just a few minutes while I help Officer Hanson? I'll let you know when you can come back."

Beth stared back at Hanson but nodded before leaving the room and shutting the door behind her.

Although he was eternally grateful to the nurse for giving him some time, Hanson's breath hitched and he felt his lip quiver. How on earth was he going to face Amy's sister? First he lets Amy die. Then he doesn't show up for her funeral. He should have told her family the details about what happened but how could he? How could he ever tell them that he picked a fight with her and that was why they were in this stupid convenience store buying hotdogs and sauerkraut for dinner instead of what they were supposed to be doing which was dining in a nice, safe restaurant? Her last memories were not happy ones and that was his fault.

"Honey, I can send her away. Who is she? You really should only be getting visitors from close family and friends right now."

_YES_, he screamed internally, _SEND HER AWAY!_ but what he said was, "No, she deserves to be here if she wants to be."

The nurse put a hand on his face for a second and he again tried to suppress the urge to pull away but this time failed and shied away from her not wanting to taint her too. She narrowed her eyes at him in concern but then seemed to let it go. "Okay, then let's at least get to the bathroom and I'll help you get a little cleaned up and back into bed. You still feel warm and need to rest."

She helped him into the bathroom and set him up to be able to wash himself a bit while she ran to get the t-shirt and pajama bottoms that his mom had brought for him and to change the bedsheets. It didn't take that long but he felt cooler and lighter but also nauseous and exhausted by the time she helped him back onto the bed. She adjusted the bed for him so he could sit up while still leaning on the pillows and he leaned back relieved to be done with the task.

"Do you want to try to eat something before I let her back in the room?" the nurse asked as she made final adjustments to his IV.

He shook his head.

"I need you to try and drink some juice and water." she said as she shoved a huge water bottle filled with ice cold water in his hands. "Do you need anything else?"

Tom took a sip from the bottle then shook his head again and closed his eyes wanting to go back to sleep.

"Okay, I'm going to get your visitor then to see you. Is that okay?"

_NO! IT'S NOT OKAY!_ "Yeah, thanks."

A minute later, he heard another soft knock and opened his eyes to see Beth walk in and this time she wasn't alone. Amy's parents followed in behind her and they all stopped a few feet away from the bed. He bit his lip hard to try to keep the newly emerging panic attack from taking hold of him. He could feel himself start to shake and moved his right hand to rest under his sling to try to hide it. They were all silent which scared him even more than if they had come in screaming and yelling at him. Even though he and Amy had only dated for a few months, she had been very close to her family so he had spent a lot of time with them. They were a lot like Amy - sweet, funny, caring. They didn't deserve what he had let happen to her.

He dared to look up at Amy's mom. She was frowning at him. He didn't dare look at Amy's dad so he dropped his gaze and his heart pounded even more. His throat and chest started to ache. Why didn't they say anything? Should he say something? What was he supposed to do? He couldn't give Amy back to them no matter how much he wanted to. He couldn't take the silence anymore so he tried to say the only thing he could.

"I'm so sorry."

When he spoke, he was shocked. His voice only came out as a broken whisper. He couldn't manage more with his breathing being constricted like it was once again.

He felt the mattress bend as someone sat on it.

"I'm sorry too," Amy's mom said and she touched him on his right arm that was still tucked as far as possible under the sling. He couldn't stand that she would actually touch him after what he had done (she must not know) so he gently pushed her away.

Amy's mom gasped at the rejection and started to cry.

"They wanted to come to see you so you could tell them what happened to Amy," Beth snapped, the anger clear in her voice. "All we were told is that someone robbed the store you were both in and he shot her. Aren't you a cop? Why didn't you stop him?"

Beth now joined her mom in crying.

Well at least they were willing to ask what everyone had to be thinking. Why didn't he stop him? If he knew the answer to that, he wouldn't be feeling like someone was strangling him at the moment.

Amy's dad moved from the side of the bed to Beth and gave her a quick hug before turning and sitting on the other side of Hanson's bed. Now, Hanson was surrounded by Amy's family with no chance of escape. He couldn't even look anywhere but down without having to look at one of them.

"Look, Tom, we're not here to place the blame for this on you. We were told that you did what you were supposed to do," Amy's dad sighed. "And, it's obvious that you're having a hard time. Neither of you kids should have had this happen to you. We just have a lot of questions and you're the only person who knows the answers."

Of course they wanted answers. He just didn't have any that they'd like. Hanson continued to look down wondering what to do. What he wanted to do was run away as fast as he could which wouldn't be terribly fast at the moment. The better option might be to crawl under the blankets and will himself to disappear. He scrunched down in the bed to try the latter option.

"I thought you were going to Chez Luis for dinner," Beth squeaked furiously through her tears. "Amy had been talking all week about how you were finally going to take her. Why were you halfway across town?"

Hanson still kept his head down and stayed quiet not knowing what to say.

"DAMN IT, TOMMY! " Beth screamed then slapped his thigh with her hand. "TELL ME!"

"BETH!" Amy's dad yelled. He got off the bed and grabbed her arms to stop her from hitting him again. "Beth, stop! This isn't helping."

Hanson looked up at the three of them in turn and was terrified by what he was seeing. Amy's dad was struggling with Beth to try to get her to calm down. Her mom was sobbing uncontrollably and tried to put her hand on his cheek when she saw him looking at her but he unconsciously shied away from her touch causing her to cry harder.

"Please stop!" he heard himself say although it sounded like it was coming from someone else. "We were supposed to go to Chez Luis but we got into a fight. I got us into a fight and then we decided to have dinner at home instead. That's why we were in that store."

All three stopped what they were doing to look at him. He looked down at his lap again. Shit. He knew he had to do this but it was going to be way, way too hard especially with the room shifting from side to side like it was. He closed his eyes tightly to try to stop the movement that he figured was only happening in his own head.

"Why were you two fighting?" Amy's mom asked quietly again trying to touch his face.

He opened his eyes and moved away from her hand. "Please, please don't touch me. You don't want to touch me." She sniffed and began to cry again so he quickly tried to continue. "I…I was trying to get her mad at me." Now that that was out of his mouth, it sounded so petty.

"What? Why?" Amy's mom asked exasperated.

"I was….I was hoping she'd get mad enough that she'd break up with me. It was stupid."

"Why? Whenever we saw you, you seemed so sweet together."

Hanson saw Beth roll her eyes. "No, mom, they argued all the time. Tommy, Amy wasn't happy either. Why do you think she took me to Hawaii instead of you? She thought you'd spend the whole time complaining and ruin the whole trip."

"I probably would have," Hanson said ashamed.

"So, since neither of you had the guts to do anything, you just let the guy kill her so you could be done with her?" Beth spat out, her face turning red with anger.

"No," Hanson said quietly shaking his head and putting his head down. "We may have fought but that doesn't mean I don't care for her. I never wanted this. I should have done something. I was at the counter starting to pay and Amy was still shopping when he came into the store and demanded money from the cashier. I thought he'd just take the money and leave. Amy didn't even know he what he was doing there. She called my name to help with the groceries she was carrying and he turned around and shot her. I didn't expect that. She wasn't a threat to him." Hanson could feel Amy's family's eyes on him and his throat constricted but he forced himself to finish. "I just stood there. I should have grabbed his gun or pushed him away or jumped in front of Amy but I just stood there. I'm so sorry. I would do anything to get her back but I can't. I thought catching the guy would help but it didn't. I don't know what else to do."

"Did she say anything? Did she know what happened to her?" Amy's mom whispered.

Hanson thought a second. "No. She was still breathing when I got to her but she didn't respond. She was bleeding so much and I tried to stop it but I couldn't. She stopped breathing and her heart stopped after just a few breaths. I started CPR but she lost so much blood that by the time help came, there was nothing they could do."

"What happened then? What did they do with my baby?" Amy's mom asked as she sobbed.

Hanson didn't quite understand the question. What did it matter what happened after that? "Um, they processed the crime scene. They took her."

"Why didn't you come and tell us what happened?" she asked, her voice rising with every question. "Why did we have to hear from cops showing up at our doorstep? Do you have any idea what it's like to have strangers come and tell you that someone you love was killed?"

Hanson closed his eyes. Yes, he did know what that was like. The police department picked him up from the Valentine's Day dance after his dad was killed. He didn't know the cops who picked him up because everyone he knew had been at the hospital or the diner where his dad had been shot. It was horrible but he didn't think it would have been any easier hearing about it from someone he knew. He couldn't tell Amy's family that though. And, why did he feel so cold suddenly?

"I'm sorry. I couldn't process what happened that night. I don't think I could have been able to tell you," he said, his voice coming out hoarsely. It was little consolation for them but it was the truth at least. The detectives had let him watch the store video and had asked him lots of questions but he had a feeling that he was so out of it they had given up and after a few hours of watching him to make sure he didn't do anything crazy they had taken him home. Once he was there, he just stayed there and didn't do much beyond stare at the four walls of his living room. Fuller and Hoffs had each called once and he had put on a good show for them but other than that, people had pretty much left him alone. His mom didn't even know what had happened until he himself was shot.

"You're a cop!" Beth yelled. "Obviously, you're a pretty shitty one if you couldn't stop that asshole from shooting Amy when you were standing right next to him. And then, you coward, you can't even tell what a failure you are to our faces. Amy never hurt anyone in her life and she thought you were some kind of superhero. Why couldn't you have been her hero? It should have been you who was killed! I hope they can your ass or, better yet, send you straight to hell!"

How could he respond to that? Hanson felt himself sweating and panting as the room suddenly became searing hot and started to flip again. He pulled his still shaking right arm out from the under the sling and covered his eyes and found that his face was wet with tears. He hadn't even realized that he had been crying. Everything Beth said was true. He was a cop and he let Amy die. He was a coward. It should have been him. It should be him. He leaned against the pillows and closed his eyes to try to stop the room from spinning.

"Beth, that's not right," Amy's dad said much more calmly than the situation warranted. "I know you're angry but Tom is not the person to blame."

After a moment of tense silence in the room, Hanson flinched as hands touched his face and he heard a gasp from Amy's mom.

"Oh, god. Mike, he's burning up!"

Hanson tried to push her away again but this time he was unsuccessful and felt another hand touch his forehead. He opened his eyes to see Amy's dad looking at him with a very worried expression on his face.

"I'm going to get a nurse," Amy's dad said with a smidgen of panic in his voice. He stood up from the bed and walked quickly towards the door. "Beth, come with me."

Hanson heard them leave and tried to pull away from Amy's mom again but she firmly had his face cupped in her hands.

"Tommy, look at me." she said forcefully. It took him a moment but he willed his eyes to look into hers, something he hadn't been able to do yet. She sighed and wiped away some of his silent tears, "This is not your fault. I know you well enough to know you would never purposely hurt Amy and I now see why you couldn't face us. Beth is lashing out at you because she trusts you and needs to blame someone; she doesn't believe what she's saying. The only thing I hold both you and Amy at fault for was not being mature enough to be honest with one another. " She stopped for a second to brush the hair out of his face and she gave him a small, sad smile. "Amy was so proud of you regardless of whether you were a boyfriend or just a friend and she would be proud of you now for finding her killer. Sweetheart, the man who shot her was the only one who took away my baby. He made that choice. Not you. Please don't let him take you too."

With those last words, everything came crashing down on him. He couldn't hold the grief back anymore and it came out in great sobs. He pushed away from her still not believing she should want to be near him but she held onto his face and leaned down to place kisses on his cheeks and forehead as he cried.

**End of Chapter 5**


	6. Chapter 6

**Here is chapter 6. I continue to struggle with this story but I promise to finish it. Hopefully, it won't be too horrendous in the end. I still don't own the show, the characters or the 21 Jump Street world.**

**Chapter 6: 2.3 Days (cont.)**

Doug strolled down the hospital hallway with a coffee in one hand and a few donuts he had picked up for Hanson on the way over in the other. He wouldn't have been at the hospital so early (well, it was nearly 10:00am but still it was early for him for a Sunday) but Hanson's mom had called at the crack of dawn to ask him to come to the hospital so she could go home to rest after being at the hospital all night and he had agreed. He never could say no to Hanson's mom. Doing that would put him in the shit house with not only her but also Hanson and disapproving looks from both sets of those brown eyes was not something he particularly enjoyed.

As he came closer to the room, he slowed down his pace. He heard a woman yelling behind the closed door and after only a few seconds realized it was coming from someone he knew. It sounded like Amy but that was wrong. It had to be her sister. He also heard a male voice he didn't recognize and then Hanson's struggling voice. Damn. Hanson couldn't get a break. Doug clearly understood Amy's sister's screaming but couldn't really make out the rest of what they were saying and he honestly didn't want to know so he moved away from the door and decided to wait it out. He found some seats out of earshot of the room and absentmindedly ate one of the donuts.

After he'd finished all the donuts and the coffee and cursed himself for once again eating Hanson's food, he saw Hanson's door open and an older man exit it along with Amy's sister. The man walked quickly past him down the hallway while Amy's sister sat down in a chair across from where he was sitting. She hadn't noticed him when she sat down and sniffled in some tissues as she sat staring at the magazine table. Darn it. What was her name? Megan? No, no, that's not right. Beth. That's her name. She looked a lot like Amy with the major exception being tall dark hair versus Amy's face hugging light brown. Doug briefly pondered who was the hair colorer of the two but then shook his head to clear his thoughts. Crap. Should he say something?

Doug sat for a full couple of minutes debating what to do when he saw the man who he now assumed was Amy and Beth's father rushing back to Hanson's room with a nurse quickly following. His curiosity got the best of him and he stood up and followed them leaving Beth behind. There was something definitely wrong and he couldn't just leave Hanson at the mercy of Amy's family. He stopped dead though as he reached the door to Hanson's room. Fuck. Hanson was covering his eyes with a visibly shaking hand and was clearly crying while an unknown woman stroked his sweat soaked hair back from his face and whispered to him. Doug deduced that she was probably Amy's mom. She looked a lot like Amy anyway including the light brown hair. Well, at least the hair coloring mystery was solved.

The nurse stuck some kind of medical thing in Hanson's ear and Doug glanced over and saw that Amy's dad had claimed a spot by the window. He too had tears streaking down his face that he hastily would brush away as he stared at the two women surrounding Hanson.

After a few seconds the instrument started beeping wildly and the nurse looked at it and frowned. As the nurse checked Hanson's heart rate on his neck, Hanson slowly rolled over on his side away from the nurse and towards the woman and Doug shot his eyes back and forth between Hanson and the panicked woman as she looked up at the nurse for answers.

"His fever has spiked again," the nurse, aware that Hanson was still very upset, said in a whisper to answer the look. "I'm going to go notify the doctor."

The nurse straightened and walked towards where Doug was standing in the doorway and gently pushed him out the door, closing the door behind her.

"May I help you?" she asked him once they were outside the room.

Doug didn't really know what to say. He felt like he should barge back in the room and kick out Amy's parents but didn't know what he'd do after that. "Um, is he going to be okay? He's my partner."

The nurse narrowed her eyes at him. Doug could just feel her judging him. "I think it's best we leave them alone until the doctor comes. Why don't you come back later?"

Doug shook his head. "No, I promised Hanson's mom that I'd come and stay with him while she went home to rest."

The look became more stern and she started to walk away from him. "His mom left over two hours ago. Why don't you take a seat in the waiting area over there if you want to wait?"

Doug watched as she quickly walked away leaving him outside the door. Shit. He was just sent to stand in the corner for misbehaving. He dragged himself back to the seating area and sat down across from Beth again. Her eyes were red from crying and she periodically sniffed. She looked up briefly and did a double take when she saw him.

"Hey," Doug said sheepishly.

Beth gave him a very brief insincere smile before looking down and slowly ripping a tissue into small pieces.

Doug sighed. Alrighty. So he messed up. He probably needed to do something about that.

"I'm real sorry about Amy," he said trying to break a little of the tension that was about to suffocate him.

Beth looked like she was debating what to say and after a long moment quietly offered, "I'm sorry about Tommy too."

They both sat another minute in silence. Beth was biting her bottom lip, her eyebrows creased in thought, and Doug was fiddling with a hole in his jeans watching her out of the corner of his eye.

After what seemed like an eternity, she stopped biting her lip and moved her head slightly to speak. "Why didn't Tommy do something to stop Amy from being killed?"

Doug looked up uncomfortably. Great. Now he gets to try to explain Hanson's actions.

"Um, armed robbers aren't usually looking to kill people when they're doing a job. They're just looking for money. It's something like 99% of the time, they'll just take the money and leave. We're taught to just give them what they want and worry about catching them later after everyone is safe and we can get backup. If I had been there, I wouldn't have expected the guy to shoot either. I would have done exactly what Hanson did."

"But then why didn't Tommy just pull out his gun and kill him after he shot Amy?"

Doug shook his head. "The clerk was still there. Hanson couldn't just pull out his gun and start shooting. And, his gun was under his jacket and strapped. Even if he wanted to, he didn't have enough time to pull it out and put it on the guy. He and probably the clerk would have been killed too if he had tried." Doug paused for a moment. "Hanson did go after the guy and got him. He was almost killed in the process. If that bullet that hit his arm had been four inches to the left, it would have hit his heart." Doug shivered at the thought of how close he had been to losing his partner. Damn it. If he had just taken the time to hang out with Hanson, he probably could have prevented him from running after the guy by himself. It's not like it had been a big surprise. Hell, Hanson had done the same thing less than a month earlier with the Kenny Weckerle kid and ended up lying in a freak hospital drugged up to the gills.

Doug put his elbows on his knees and lowered his face into his hands rubbing his face fiercely. How did things get so messed up?

There was a long pause before Beth spoke again. This time she spoke with much less force and more uncertainty. "Is Tommy going to be in trouble?"

Doug snorted. Like Hanson wasn't already in trouble. He was lying in a hospital bed with an extra hole in his arm, a blazing infection that didn't seem to want to let go and a dead girlfriend. He'd say that Hanson was in a shit load of trouble. But then Doug realized that Beth wasn't asking about Hanson's general state of being but rather whether he'd be in trouble with the police force. He let out a loud breath before answering.

"I don't know. Maybe for going after the guy without permission."

"But that was the only thing he did right."

Doug sucked in a breath. The bitch. What did he just tell her? He took another deep breath to calm himself. "He did what he was trained to do. He could have been killed. They're thinking the guy that killed Amy, his name is Angelo Frisk by the way, is probably responsible for a lot more robberies and a few other shootings. He's not showing any guilt for what he did. I heard he actually laughed at Hanson when he saw how much Amy's death messed him up. The guy is a sociopath and Hanson caught him without anyone getting hurt during the arrest. He saved the clerk at that convenience store on Dockside too. If Hanson wouldn't have been there, the clerk would have bled to death."

"Oh, gee. That makes me feel so much better. Tommy's quite the guy," Beth said sarcastically. "I don't even know why I'm talking to you. You're his partner. Of course you'd defend him."

Doug shook his head but remained silent. Beth was grieving. She lost her sister and needed someone to blame and hurt and Hanson was by far the easiest target. Trying to argue with her was only going to make her lash out more. Before Doug could come up with any type of suitable retort, the nurse and a doctor walked past them towards Hanson's room. Once again, Doug stood up and left Beth to herself.

Doug again found himself standing in the doorway watching the drama that played out before him. Amy's dad was still at the window. His shoulders were slumped and he looked about 20 years older than he had just ten minutes ago. Amy's mom was sitting on the bed and holding Hanson's right hand. Her eyes were puffy from crying and she looked like she was about to lose another child. Hanson was lying on his back again and had stopped crying but his eyes were closed tightly and he slowly pulled his hand out of Amy's mom's grasp. She accepted the rejection but didn't seem too happy about it.

The doctor sat on the bed next to Hanson and put two fingers on Hanson's wrist to check his pulse and Hanson opened his eyes to look at him but then quickly closed them again.

"Tom, how are you feeling?" the doctor asked.

Hanson pursed his lips and looked pissed at being asked the same question yet again. Then his shoulders slumped a little and he surrendered. "Cold. The room keeps spinning," he croaked.

"That's from the fever. I need to check your arm to see if I can tell where the infection is coming from. This will probably hurt a bit so just try to relax."

Hanson nodded slightly and pushed back against the pillows. He flinched several times as the doctor unwrapped the bandages encircling his arm but he remained quiet. Doug watched Hanson's jaw clench so hard he was probably crushing his teeth. By the time the doctor had completely unwrapped Hanson's arm and gently explored the red bullet hole with his fingers, Doug had dared to take a few silent steps into the room and he could see a fresh layer of sweat on Hanson's face. The nurse noticed his stealthy entrance and gave him another frigid look that froze him in place again. He felt completely out of place and unsure about what to do. He was the one who was supposed to be watching over Hanson but Amy's family seemed to have adopted him. Doug wondered what was running through Hanson's head. This had to be complete hell for him.

"Tom, it looks like we're going to have to clean out your arm again," the doctor explained. "The antibiotics aren't working. We tried to let the fever run its course but it's been high for an extended period now and you shouldn't be in this much pain. The wound site is red but I don't see any external infection so that usually that means that something is still in the wound that shouldn't be. I'm going to give you something to bring down your fever temporarily so you can rest and I'll schedule some tests to make sure but expect that you'll be back in surgery sometime this afternoon."

Hanson nodded his head again. Doug could see him swallow and his face fall very slightly but it was enough to alarm him. Hanson was about to lose control again and Doug decided to finally make his move.

"Hey, um," Doug stopped when he saw Hanson jump. He hadn't known he was there and Doug heard him mutter "shit" under his breath. Doug rushed on ahead like he hadn't noticed. "Tom's mom asked me to come over and have someone call if there was a problem. Hanson, do you want someone to call her?"

Like a true partner, Hanson got the incredibly subtle opening and took it. "No, thanks. Later. I just want to be alone for awhile."

The doctor and nurse took the explicitly stated hint. The nurse said she'd go get the fever reducer and walked out the door giving Doug a slight smirk of approval as she passed and the doctor made a strong suggestion that they all allow Hanson to rest and waited until Amy's mom was standing before starting to head towards the door himself. Doug turned to the door as Amy's mom leaned over and gave Hanson a kiss on the forehead and Doug saw that Hanson was doing his best to keep control but was quickly failing especially after the kiss.

Doug desperately wanted to give Hanson some time to himself. He hated it when people saw himself being emotionally vulnerable and knew Hanson was the same. He needed to get Amy's parents moving. "Ah, I think Beth is waiting for you both outside."

That seemed to get Amy's mom's attention and she and Amy's dad walked out the door towards where Beth was still seated. Doug glanced at Hanson before closing the door and saw him turn to his side and pull into a fetal position. Damnit. Once he was outside, he leaned against the door and let out a large sigh as he rubbed his face with his hands. He was going to stay right there to make sure that this kind of bullshit didn't happen again.

**End of Chapter 6**

**Any and all suggestions are welcome.**


	7. Chapter 7

**So, so, so sorry for the very long hiatus. For those of you still hanging in there, here's the next chapter for a story I originally posted last summer. So embarrassing.**

**I still own none of the characters contained herein.**

**Chapter 7: 3.3 Days**

"You want help?"

Hanson shook his head and pushed himself into a sitting position. He sat for a minute with his head lowered and Doug held his breath while he waited for Hanson's next move. He hadn't moved from Hanson's side for a full 24 hours and Doug could count on one hand the number of words Hanson had said during that entire time. Granted Hanson had been in surgery, unconscious or sleeping most of that time but, still, the silence was making Doug nervous and jumpy.

"How ya feeling?" Doug chanced asking as he stood up for something to do.

Hanson swallowed slowly and raised his head to look at him. "Fine."

Doug narrowed his eyes at him. Hanson was not fine. The look in his eyes made him appear terrified which probably wasn't too far from the truth. Hanson dropped his eyes and swung his legs out of the bed. At least there was a marked improvement during Doug's vigil. The infection was all but gone so Hanson was IV free and moving around again.

"You need something? Some food? Juice? Drugs?" Doug rambled as Hanson got out of bed but before Hanson made it any farther than standing up, he sat down on the bed again, slumped his shoulders and looked at the floor.

"Tom?" Doug asked quietly not knowing how to help and hating it. He took a step closer and wrapped a hand gently around Hanson's uninjured arm in case he decided to take a nose dive face first into the floor.

"Is anyone else still here?"

"Um, no. Your mom went home to take a shower and rest. Amy's family left last night after they drugged you up. Do you need someone?"

Hanson shook his head. Doug bent down a little to try to look into Tom's eyes but they were hidden by his greasy hair. There must have been something really interesting on the floor that Doug couldn't see though because Hanson was enthralled with it. His eyebrows were knit together like he was studying every swirl in the ugly yellow and green pattern. Instead of standing there feeling like an idiot, Doug sat down on the bed next to Hanson and let out a loud breath. He stared at the floor as well to see if he could unravel the mystery of the ugliness.

"Doug?"

"Yeah?" Doug asked matching the quietness of Hanson's voice.

"I…..I don't think I can handle this."

Doug felt his chest tighten. Hanson's admission was so sincere, so full of despair, that Doug actually felt a lump form in his throat. He'd never heard so much fear and hopelessness in his partner's voice before. That was not Tom Hanson. Tom Hanson was idealistic and as stubborn as a rock. It pissed Doug off that someone had hurt his best friend so badly and he wanted to go ring the bastard's neck, kick him in a kidney repeatedly, pull out his fingernails with a rusty pliers…...

Now was not the time for that though. Doug switched which hand was holding onto Hanson's arm and wrapped his now free arm around Hanson's slim waist pulling him close. He could feel his partner's warm body trembling through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. It could not have been easy for Hanson to admit he needed help.

"Man, I know you're going through hell. I wish I could fix it. But, it'll get better."

Hanson raised his head and looked at him. "How? I can't bring her back. That's not going to get better."

Doug stared back at him. Why did Hanson always seem to think he had the answers when he most clearly did not? But he could say only one thing he knew for sure. "No…. that's not. But you will."

Hanson looked away and resumed staring at the floor. Doug continued to keep his arms on his partner while he patiently waited for an excruciating long time for Hanson to do or say something.

"I want to get out of here," Hanson said quietly. "Before everyone shows up again. I don't want people to see me like this anymore."

Doug snorted. "Yeah, probably good you were so out of it last night. It took two nurses to convince Amy's mom that she had to leave. I think your mom was ready to take her down."

Hanson's mouth formed a smirk. "Oh, that's just dandy," he said sarcastically.

"I don't think anyone is going to be too thrilled if you play hookie again," Doug said quietly after a long pause cursing his brows in concern that Hanson was going to be sending them all on another search mission for him.

"I don't think I can act the way I'm supposed to," Hanson said in a whisper.

Huh? Doug shook his head. "The way you're supposed to? Hanson, just do what you need to to get through this. I'm here. Just tell me how I can help."

Hanson looked up at him. "Help me out of here."

Doug loosened his hold and moved away slightly so he could look Hanson in the face. "To go where? The doctor said you need to stay here for awhile to make sure you rest and get help."

Hanson shook his head.

"Come on, man," Doug whined. "I don't want to do something that's going to hurt you more."

"Then don't do anything. Just…go…away," Hanson said angrily although the look on his face made it look like he was about to cry. Hanson closed his eyes and took a deep breath to compose himself. When he opened his eyes again, a determined frown formed on his face. Crap. Doug knew that look. Hanson had made up his mind to leave and no amount of convincing arguments, begging, groveling or handcuffing him to the bed was going to stop him.

Doug let out another loud breath. "Damn it, Hanson! Alright, we'll leave. But, you have to promise me - and I mean promise me - that you will hang with me. You won't go off by yourself. And, that we'll call your mom and Fuller and tell them what's going on."

Hanson looked at him with a pained smile and nodded. "Thanks."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Doug growled as he got off the bed. He picked up his jacket from the chair and helped Hanson put it halfway on grumbling the whole time about being an idiot, how crazy this was and how Fuller was going to kill them. After a futile search for shoes, he decided they'd have to make due with the sweatpants and socks Tom already had on.

Doug peeked out the door to check the path to the stairwell. There was one nurse looking at a chart a few doors down. After a minute of scribbling notes, she headed past Hanson's room back towards the nurse's station. Once she turned into the station, Doug grabbed Hanson's uninjured arm and pulled him out of the room towards the stairs praying the whole time that no-one would see them and cursing himself for being such a chump.

Once they were close to the stairwell door, he chanced a look over at Hanson and saw something beyond the grief and pain in Hanson's eyes. There was a spark of his old self as they snuck into the stairwell and quietly worked their way down the stairs together.

Doug smiled and shook his head. He grumbled again, "Fuller's gonna kill us."


	8. Chapter 8

**Next chapter. Thanks for the encouragement!**

**Still own nothing.**

**Chapter 8: 3.3 Days (cont.)**

Doug looked at the odometer. They had gone 147 miles in the old Mustang once they recovered it from Hanson's apartment. Without a word, Hanson had gotten into the passenger seat letting Doug drive his baby. And, Doug had to admit he loved driving her. Hanson kept her in perfect condition and she purred in appreciation, accelerating without hesitation at the lightest tap of the gas pedal and twirling gracefully at the slightest turn of the wheel.

Doug had pointed the old girl south and still had no real idea where they were going. Tom had just shook his head 'no' to any suggestion Doug made and seemed more at ease while they were moving so Doug just kept driving with the exception of one short stop to call Fuller.

As expected, Fuller was pissed. No, pissed wasn't quite the right word. He was furious, livid, enraged, exasperated, incensed….. Ugh, too much high school. The day he starts conjugating verbs or quoting Shakespeare as a pastime will be the day he requests a transfer to another department. Maybe Intelligence. They're like the Metro CIA. Way cool except Hanson would hate it and work would kind of suck without him.

At least Fuller was saving the official lynching for when they got back, if they got back. Doug knew he'd have to drag Hanson home but wasn't looking forward to it at all. What if he refused to go back? Well, at least so far it'd been easy to keep track of him. Hanson couldn't really attempt an escape out of a car traveling at 55 miles per hour (okay, so a few times at 80 miles per hour to let the girl fly but only on deserted sections of the road).

Doug glanced at Hanson. As he had been doing for the last hour and a half - except for the occasional fight over the radio - Hanson had his head back against the seat and was staring silently out the window. It wasn't like this was anything new for him though. They'd been on enough stakeouts together and spent enough days and nights in the other's company that silence between them was comfortable. What concerned Doug now was that Tom's face was pale and the dark rings around his eyes were more pronounced than ever. And, he was clutching the jacket around his hurt arm giving away that the pain meds were all but gone.

Doug turned the car right to head towards the ocean to see if he could find a store to pick up some food and some aspirin or something. He needed a break too. He needed to pee and somehow get a nap in before he could drive again.

Before long, he saw signs for a small beach town and decided it was as good of a place as any to stop. He slowed down once he entered downtown and located a small shop right on main street and stopped the car.

"I'm going to get something to eat and get something for you to take for your arm. What do you want?"

Hanson took a deep breath and pulled himself out of his daze. "Nothing, thanks. I'm fine."

"Would you stop saying that?" Doug said a little annoyed.

Hanson looked at him not understanding. "What?"

"That you're fine."

"Oh."

Doug waited a few seconds to see if he was going to get more than that but Hanson just resumed looking at the window. Doug realized he really couldn't call what Tom was doing looking through the window at anything beyond the dirty glass.

"You're going to stay in the car, right?" Doug asked.

"Yeah, sure."

"Hanson…."

"Yes, I'll stay in the car," Hanson snapped at him but then opened his eyes wide in shock at himself. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be such a prick."

"It's okay," Doug said then took a deep breath. "I'm just worried, you know."

"I know. I'm sorry. I'll stay, okay?"

Doug looked at him and Hanson seemed sincere. Should he have faith that Tom wasn't going to run off especially after putting him in such a shitty position with Fuller? Hanson didn't lie to him even when he was planning on something stupid, like, um, with the whole leaving the hospital thing. And, he really had to pee. Doug got out of the car taking the car keys with him just in case and headed into the store.

When he came back out of the store, as promised, Hanson hadn't moved an inch and Doug let out a huge sigh of relief. He got back in the car dropping the things he had bought on Hanson's lap and drove the rest of the way towards the beach.

"Wanna just stay here for awhile?" Doug asked once he found a place to park that wouldn't require four-wheel drive to get out of the sand.

Tom was looking out at the waves. It was a fairly decent day. The sun wasn't out of course so everything was colored various shades of gray but the wind coming off the ocean was shockingly minimal and with the blankets and extra jackets that Hanson always had in his trunk 'just in case', they'd be warm enough. Tom nodded his head and got out of the car hauling the food and supplies out with his good arm.

They found a spot against an old fallen tree stripped clean by the wind and water. Doug fiddled with the jackets and blankets until Hanson growled at him to stop. Doug couldn't help but be fidgety though. He was back to not knowing what to do. He tried to coax some ibuprofen and food into Hanson then, giving up, ate an entire bag of Funyuns himself. After a while, he finally calmed down enough to just lean against the tree. He scooted closer to Tom when the wind picked up a little to share a little body warmth and wondered what else to do and how the hell he was going to get Hanson to want to go home again. If it had been his girlfriend who had been killed in front of him, he'd be halfway to Mexico by now and still running.

"You wanna talk?" Doug finally asked not wanting to think about losing Dorothy in such a horrible way.

Tom shook his head.

"You're going to have to talk about it sometime, you know."

"What exactly do you want me to say?" Hanson asked in a dead voice while he stared out at the ocean.

"I don't know," Doug shrugged. "What are you thinking about?"

"I'm kind of trying not to think."

Doug shook his head to himself. This wasn't going so well. He gave up and started drawing in the sand with a soggy stick. Even that didn't work very well. The stick kept bending. Maybe he should have kept driving at least until they could see the sun and sit somewhere dry.

"Have you ever made a really bad mistake that you couldn't fix?" he heard Hanson ask in a voice that was barely audible.

Doug looked over at him. Hanson was staring at him with the same scared expression that he had had on his face in the hospital. He had to take a minute to try to come up with a good response. A wrong statement might send Tom off the deep end.

"Yeah, everyone has."

Hanson swallowed. "I could have stopped him from killing her, you know, and I didn't. I just stood there while he shot her."

Doug again spoke very carefully. "You know you did what you were supposed to do. There was no way for you to know that he was going to pull the trigger. Anyone with half a brain would not have pulled the trigger. In the same situation, I would have done the same thing as you. So would have Fuller and everyone else we know at the department."

Hanson looked away and shook his head. "If I would have just grabbed him or pushed him, he wouldn't have focused on Amy. There was enough time that I could have done something to grab his gun, or my gun or at least distract him enough that Amy could have hid or run away."

"Yeah, and all three of you would probably be dead right now and he'd still be running around town shooting people."

"You don't know that," Hanson said. "He turned his back on me. I could have done so many things to stop him. I had 3.3 seconds to do something and I just stood there."

"You stood there because 99% of the time, that's the way to _keep_ people from getting shot and killed."

Hanson didn't answer. His hair was blowing lightly on his face as he stared out at the gray waves. The intense pain was showing clearly on his face again. Hanson wasn't convinced and probably never would be. Suddenly, Doug had an idea.

"Stand up," he said getting to his own feet and pulling Hanson up with him.

"What?" Hanson asked wearily.

Doug's heart started racing. If this didn't work, Hanson was going to be more messed up than ever. "Let's see if what you think you should have done would have worked."

"You're kidding, right?"

Doug looked around the beach and saw an old man with a noticeable paunch slowly working his way down the beach carrying his shoes in one hand. Doug bounced towards him, "Hey, you have a few minutes to help us out with something?"

The old man looked at Doug as if he was expecting to be mugged. Doug slowed his pace and pulled out his badge.

"I'm sorry to bug you but I was just wondering if you could help us. I'm Officer Penhall. That's my partner, Officer Hanson. We're trying to figure something out for a case." Doug gestured towards Tom nodding encouragingly and the old man looked at both of them suspiciously.

"Penhall, leave him alone," Doug heard Hanson yell from behind him.

The old man shrugged his shoulders. "Sure, okay. What do you want me to do?"

Doug started working his way back towards Hanson. He pulled up his jacket sleeve and started to remove his multifunctional digital watch that Hanson called his "Beam Me Up, Scotty".

"Just time us a few times." They reached where Hanson was standing and glaring furiously at Doug and Doug handed the watch over. "What's your name?"

"Gary Stokes."

"Mr. Stokes, Officer Tom Hanson. Hanson, Mr. Stokes," Doug said as a quick greeting. As he explained to Stokes which buttons to push to start, stop and reset the timing function on the watch, he was acutely aware of Hanson silently burning a hole in his back with his eyes. But, even though Tom was pissed, he didn't outright stop him which Doug took as permission to continue.

Once he was confident that Stokes had a handle on the watch situation, he turned his attention back to Hanson.

"I'm not doing this," Hanson said through clenched teeth. Doug was not discouraged though. 'Ticked off Tom' he could deal with; 'drowning in grief Tom' he could not.

"Yes, we are."

"No, we're not."

"Look, um, I don't want to get in the middle of anything," Stokes said trying to hand back the watch.

"Stay," Doug said the same time that Hanson said, "Go."

Doug did not look away and neither did Hanson. They held a staring down contest with poor Stokes standing next to them holding the watch up as if it were a peace offering.

"You've been coming up with all these, um, ideas in your head for two weeks," Doug tried. "Let's try to see if anything would have made sense and worked."

Hanson shook his head. "I already know the answer. This is stupid, Penhall."

"Yeah, you do know the right answer," Doug said getting annoyed that he couldn't just whack Hanson over the head to get him to think straight. "You _know _that you did the best thing you could under the circumstances but you don't believe it, or me, or Fuller, or anyone else and you won't believe it until you, I don't know, do something."

Hanson didn't say anything but continued to glare for a moment but then his face and body deflated and he backed up so he could lean against the tree. "What's the point? It's not going to change anything."

"Come on, man. I got you out of the hospital and drove you all the way down here. Just, humor me, okay?"

Tom rolled his eyes. "Fine."


	9. Chapter 9

******Much thanks to everyone who has submitted reviews! I very much appreciate the encouragement. Here's the next chapter.**

**Still own nothing.**

******Chapter 9: 3.3 Days (cont.)**

Grrr…. That word 'fine' again. Doug took off his jacket and unstrapped his gun holster with probably more force than was necessary. Both Hanson and Stokes looked at him like they were expecting him to go on a rampage.

"What are you doing, Penhall?" Tom asked wide-eyed.

"You said you might have been able to get your gun." Doug pulled the gun out of the holster and handed the holster to Hanson who very reluctantly took it in his good hand. "Seems like a good enough place to start."

Doug emptied the gun and put the bullets in his pocket before helping Tom take off his jacket and put on the holster. Tom complied but that terrified look was back. Doug strapped the holster and gun on careful to not jar Tom's bad arm but unintentionally managed to elicit a few flinches and a hiss out of him anyway. Once Doug had mothered the jacket back on, Hanson looked down.

"Um, Penhall."

"What?"

"Unzip me," Hanson spouted impatiently.

Doug reached over to unzip the jacket but hesitated when he saw that in his excitement he had absently zipped the jacket all the way up to Hanson's chin. With his bad arm out of the sling but still not in the jacket sleeve, the jacket was so tight that it looked like Hanson was in a half straight jacket. Doug couldn't help but snort at what he had done to his partner and saw that Hanson's lips were also turned upward in a half grin.

"How…."

"Just unzip it. I can't breathe here."

Doug snickered and gave Hanson a playful slap on the back of the head before unzipping the jacket for him.

That was the end of the humor. As soon as Doug asked Tom where they should be standing, Hanson's face turned a shade of grey that blended in well with the dark circles under his eyes and the surrounding landscape and Doug thought for sure he'd be chasing Hanson down the beach within a few seconds.

Instead, Hanson took a few deep breaths and blinked several times. When he spoke, Doug could tell it was forced. "You, um, stand next to me, there. Hold my jacket by the elbow. Is Stokes supposed to be the clerk?"

They both looked at Stokes. He was standing a few feet away with his mouth half open in shock. "You're the cop whose girlfriend was killed. The Convenience Store Killer. I thought he had been arrested."

Hanson's face distorted and he started to turn away but Doug held onto his jacket a little tighter to make him stay. "Yeah, Hanson found and arrested him."

"What happened to your arm?" Stokes asked nodding his head towards the injured limb.

"Nothing, can we just get on with this?" Hanson quickly answered.

"You're reenacting it?" Stokes asked still shocked. "Why would you do that? Why would _anyone_ do that?"

"Yeah, Doug, why would we do that?" Hanson asked lifting his eyebrows into his hair giving away the sarcasm in his question even though he sounded dead serious.

Doug didn't quite know how to answer. Stokes had realized the gravity of what they were doing before he had. They were about to force a victim to re-live the murder of someone he had cared about. The fact that Doug knew that Hanson was tough-as-nails when he needed to be didn't diminish how hard this would be on him. This could end very badly. What the hell _were_ they doing?

But, on the other hand, they had come this far and sitting silently was doing neither of them any good. Doug shrugged his shoulders in fake nonchalance. "Because thinking about doing something and actually doing it are two different things."

"Great, that clears it up," Hanson complained shaking his head.

Doug ignored Hanson and thanked the heavens that Stokes was enough or smart enough (didn't really matter which) to not push it so he didn't have to come up with an answer that made actual sense.

"So, where should I stand then?" Stokes asked.

Hanson halfheartedly pointed in front of where he and Doug were standing. Stokes moved into place and raised the watch to prepare to start the timer.

"What next?" Doug asked.

It took a long moment for Hanson to answer. As they stood there, his breathing became unnaturally fast and he had to take two long breaths to slow it down. "He held the gun on the clerk, then me…back and forth a few times. I tried to look at him so I would have a good description of him."

"You weren't going to stop him?" Stokes asked again surprised.

"Two other people were in the store," Hanson said automatically shaking his head. He then stopped dead. He flinched and cursed his eyebrows in thought but offered no other explanation. Doug wondered what was running through his mind. Whether Hanson had just explained to himself that he had done exactly what he should have done even if it turned out completely screwed up. After staring at the ground for a few seconds, Hanson continued softly. "I could see Amy in the store security mirror down the aisle shopping. She stopped about 20 feet back, like where that seaweed is over there. She was carrying too much and called my name to get me to help. The perpetrator let go of me and I turned and called her name. She dropped a bottle of something she was carrying, ginger ale I think. It shattered on the floor." Tom stopped to take another long breath to try to slow down his breathing again and Doug held a little tighter onto Hanson's sleeve. Hanson looked up at him with that terrified look again. "I can't do this."

"You can," Doug replied quietly. "It's just you and me and, um, Mr. Stokes here."

Tom shook his head quickly and tried to take a step back.

"What was the clerk doing?" Stokes asked.

That seemed to snap Hanson out of it. His eyes blinked and he looked at Stokes. "Um, at first nothing. The perpetrator, his name is Frisk, started to get more agitated so the clerk opened the till and started to take out the money for him."

"Okay, so I can just stand here then."

Hanson gave a brief nod.

"What happened after the bottle smashed?" Doug asked grateful once again for Stokes. He briefly congratulated himself in picking the right random person to help.

"He turned away from me and shot her. I yelled then he put the gun back on me." Tom got a faraway look and shook his head. "My arms never moved."

Doug decided it was best to dismiss the last statement. "Okay, so I'm holding onto you. Amy calls you. You turn and call her name. I turn and, you know, then put the gun back on you. Should we do that first?"

Hanson stared at the ground.

"Stokes, could you call 'Tom' as if you were Amy?" Doug looked over at Stokes and noted that he looked stricken. Stokes nodded soberly and Doug felt a little bad now that he had asked a complete stranger to help with something that was probably going to give them both nightmares. Hanson was already guaranteed nightmares so he didn't count.

"Okay, so let's just try that first." Doug bent his knees a little to try to look into Hanson's eyes and get his attention. "Hanson, okay?"

Hanson looked up. "You know how messed up this is, right?"

Doug gave an uncomfortable laugh. "Uh, yeah, I know it's messed up. I probably didn't know how much until now. Not my brightest idea, huh?"

Hanson shook his head solemnly.

"We're this far though."

Hanson nodded still not looking happy at all but at least looked willing to try. They got into position, Doug moving a bit back so he could move up to start the fake robbery. "Just start the timer when I start to turn away, okay?"

Stokes nodded.

Doug looked at Hanson. He was still staring at the ground. Doug took a deep breath and moved quickly up to where Hanson was standing and grabbed his arm. Hanson immediately stiffened in the grip. Using his thumb and forefinger, Doug alternated pointing a finger gun at Hanson and Stokes in turn and demanded money. They continued in this way for a minute, more time than Doug thought was necessary.

"Stokes, say 'Tom,'" Hanson said between clenched teeth before Doug could get to it.

"Tom," Stokes said loudly in response to the demand.

Doug let go of Hanson's arm and Hanson began to turn.

"Start the timer," Doug said as he turned as well. He pointed his finger gun but couldn't pull the thumb trigger when it was pointed at the seaweed so just pointed it back at Hanson. "Stop the timer."

Hanson's grey hue had turned a pale green by the time Doug looked past his gun fingers at him. The whole exercise had been very mechanical but it must have been close enough to what had happened. Hanson looked like he was about to run again. He looked at Doug's fingers as if a gun were actually there but then his eyes focused and his face hardened.

"Okay, now what?" he asked.

Doug lowered his arm. "How much time did that take?"

Stokes looked at the watch, "3.9 seconds."

Doug was surprised. It seemed like he had done it so quickly. He hadn't even really aimed his pointer finger well at the seaweed.

"Should we try it one more time to pract…."

"No," Hanson barked before Doug could finish the sentence. "Let's just get this over with." Hanson put his right hand under the jacket to feel where the gun was and make sure it was in the same place as during the robbery. Then he put his arm back down and stood as still as a statue in front of Stokes.

Doug again moved back then quickly walked up and grabbed Hanson's arm, pointing his gun fingers at Stokes again.

"Stop!" Hanson yelled trying to pull out of Doug's grasp.

Doug blinked at him.

"Just stop," he pleaded staring at Doug and jerking his arm again to try to get loose. Doug put his gun fingers down but didn't let go of Hanson's arm.

"We just got started. Let's just see….."

"_No_, Doug," Hanson cried his voice trembling slightly. "I know you are trying to help and I'm so sorry for dragging you into this mess but doing this isn't going to change anything. It doesn't matter if what I've been thinking makes sense or not. If it doesn't, I'll just come up with 100 more things I did wrong. I shouldn't have brought Amy into that store in the first place. I should have broken up with her like a real adult would have. And this," Tom said waving his good hand at Stokes and then around the beach, "isn't going to change my mind about those things. I will always, _always_ feel guilty about what happened to her. She trusted me and I failed her. No-one can deny that."

"Tom," Doug whispered. "It wasn't…."

"Stop!" Hanson shouted. Doug saw tears forming in Hanson's eyes and he clenched his fingers around his arm tighter feeling like if he let go, Tom would crumble at his feet. "I know I didn't plan to put her in danger. I _know_ I didn't pull the trigger. I know it wasn't my decision. But, I…didn't…_protect_…her. That's my job, Doug. That's all I've ever wanted to do and I didn't for someone who, who… someone who felt intimately safe with me. How can I live with that? How can I trust myself with anyone else? I shouldn't even be here."

The last sentence of his tirade trailed off and Hanson raised his hand to cover his eyes. The movement brought him within inches of Doug's chest. As Doug pondered what Hanson had meant by saying he shouldn't be here, Doug wrapped his free hand around the back of Hanson's neck and pulled his head into the crook of his own neck. Hanson attempted to pull away but Doug kept him in place with his hand. Thankfully, Hanson's struggling was short lived and he relaxed and leaned into the hold as he let out a few heart-wrenching sobs. But then, way too quickly, Doug felt Hanson's body tense again. He seemed to be flexing every muscle to try to get control of himself and after only a few seconds he managed to stop crying. Doug gently massaged the back of Hanson's neck lightly while his head was still buried against him wishing that Hanson would just let go and let himself mourn. He didn't dare verbalize that to him though. Telling Tom it was okay to be upset would only piss him off.

"Let go of me, Penhall," Hanson mumbled against his shirt.

Doug very reluctantly released the pressure on Hanson's neck but still kept his hand in place as Hanson straightened himself. Hanson eyes were surprisingly puffy and red from such a short cry and he looked like he was ready to collapse. After everything he'd been through, there was a very real chance of that actually happening. And, seeing how tired Hanson looked reminded him about how little sleep he himself had had in the last 24 hours.

"I'm very sorry," Stokes said.

Doug had forgotten that he was even there and looked away from Hanson to him and nodded.

"You both look exhausted. My house is just a block from here," Stokes said. "If you boys need a place to rest for awhile, my wife and I have space."

"If you want to go back now, I'll go," Hanson muttered unconvincingly under his breath.

"Stokes is right. You don't look so good, Hanson, and I'm tired too. I think we could use some zzzs." Doug looked at the sky. As long as the weather was decent, it would actually be kind of nice to sleep in the fresh air before they'd have to get back in the car and go off to the sterile, stagnant air of the hospital which Hanson was sure to be stuck in especially after this little stunt. Doug looked at Hanson. He didn't look like he gave a damn no matter what they did. Doug gave a half-hearted smile to Stokes. "Thanks for the offer but I think we'll be okay out here. Hanson, that ok?"

Hanson absently nodded his head. He eventually looked up at Stokes. "Thanks for stopping for us. Sorry to ruin your day."

Stokes shrugged his shoulders like it was no big deal but his eyes looked very serious. "I'm glad you did. I'm going to stick around for a while if that's okay with you."

"Thanks," Doug said. "But you don't need to do that. We'll be okay."

"I'm sure you will be but I'll feel better if I know you're not going to get mugged while you rest. As tired as you two look, someone could probably take off with your shoes and you'd never know it. I have grandkids your age. I know I would be grateful if someone watched over them if they needed it. So, humor an old man." Stokes gave a small smile that never reached his eyes and held out his arm to hand over the watch. "I'm going to go get some coffee and a chair from that shop over there and then will be back. Do you need anything?"

Doug took the watch from him and held out his hand. "No, thanks."

Stokes took Doug's hand in both of his then took Hanson's in turn. He looked like he was about to walk off but then hesitated and looked back at Hanson. "I was in Italy in WW2 in what seems like another life ago. I saw a lot of shit happen and have a lot of regrets for things that we, that I, did. I remember feeling the same way as you for a long, long time. It was a very dark time but I finally realized that the only thing I could do to make up for it was to try to be the best person I could be, to be the one to do the hard stuff so others didn't have to." Stokes gave a sharp laugh. "Not that I've always done a good job at either but I still try." At this, Stokes briefly touched Hanson on the shoulder then walked off.


	10. Chapter 10

**My apologies again for the long delay. It's pretty bad when I lose interest in my own writing. :-) Many thanks to everyone who has taken time to review what I've written to date and for having patience!**

**Chapter 10: 3.3 Days (cont.)**

"Come on," Frisk said through his teeth. "Come on!"

Hanson looked over at him. Frisk had the gun on him then turned it onto the clerk.

"Come on!" Frisk repeated. He grabbed the money from the clerk and shoved it into his jacket.

"Tom."

Hanson turned. "Amy. Nooooo!" he screamed then jumped in front of Amy so he could take the bullet. The force of the bullet entering his chest threw him backwards and he fell into a shelf of chips that tipped over under his weight. He lay there unable to breathe through the pain of the bullet shooting through his body.

Suddenly, Frisk was above him smiling at him. "Stupid cop. She's dead anyway."

Horror filled Hanson. He turned his head and saw Amy lying on the floor covered in blood, just like she had been a hundred times already. Then Frisk picked up his foot and placed it on Hanson's chest where he had been shot and pushed down, smiling the whole time.

Hanson cried out at the pain tearing across his chest down to his fingertips. He gasped as the pain reached levels he hadn't expected in a dream and suddenly, he wasn't in a dream anymore. The pain remained but it wasn't in his chest, it was in his arm. He heard the waves of the ocean hitting the shore and felt a cool breeze against his cheek. He was surprisingly warm for lying on the beach in the Northwest and opened his eyes to see grey clouds partially obscured by Doug's brown jacket.

He moved to lie down on his back and instantly regretted it. Holy, holy, _holy_ crap his arm hurt. It was like someone was twisting his arm over and over again. He swallowed hard and held still biting down on his lip until the worst of it passed and the pain tamed to a sharp pulsing. He moved his right hand to hold onto his injured arm and noted that that it was cold and fleetingly wondered if he should be worried about that.

He closed his eyes and pondered whether he could go back to sleep again. The sound of the waves was soothing and the cool, salty breeze was therapy for lungs used to dank building air. He concentrated on the throbbing in his arm and the rhythm of the surf and he managed kind of a half consciousness until another wave of white-hot pain started to build in his arm and he sat up quickly to see if he could get it to stop. He supported himself with his good arm and let out another gasp as the pain shifted but kept building. He grabbed his arm and held his breath as the wave peaked then slowly receded.

Once it was back to simply throbbing, he allowed himself to breathe again. He could feel sweat prickling on the back of his neck and cooling in the light breeze but at least the pain was somewhat manageable. He opened his eyes and looked around. Doug was sleeping soundly next to him. They were both covered with a large unfamiliar quilt decorated with small, multicolored triangles arranged in different shapes.

Hanson moved his eyes to take in the rest of his surroundings. The sky seemed darker but it was still light out so they must not have been sleeping for a really long time. He turned his head and saw that Stokes was sitting in a camp chair holding a book. He wasn't reading but looking at him over his reading glasses with a concerned expression.

"Are you in pain?" Stokes asked him.

"A bit."

"Can I get you something?"

"Uh, Penhall bought me something," he said looking around not really ready to try to stand up yet. "It's in a plastic bag." He couldn't see it where he was sitting so he started to get up but suddenly another red-hot poker was shoved into his arm. At least that's what it felt like. The pain consumed him and he had to sit curled up until it passed. Once it did enough for him to open his eyes again, he found Stokes kneeling in front of him with the bottle of ibuprofen.

"What's wrong with your arm? Do you need help? You look like you're in a terrible amount of pain."

"I was shot," he mumbled.

"By the same person?" Stokes asked, a surprised expression on his face.

"Yeah."

Stokes looked like he wanted more details but thankfully restrained himself from asking. He opened the bottle and dropped three capsules in his palm, hesitated, then add another. Hanson took the pills and tried to dry swallow them but his throat was so sticky they just stuck to the inside of the back of his mouth.

"Here, drink some of this. Careful, it's hot." Stokes handed him an open thermos and Hanson took a sip then drank enough to get the pills down. The heat burned his throat but was the best thing he'd tasted in a while and the warmth and sugar were like salve to his throat.

"Thanks," he said holding out the thermos of hot chocolate to try to hand it back to Stokes. "That stuff is awesome."

Stokes smirked. "Compliments of my wife, Sara. Hold onto it and drink more if you can. The calories will probably do you some good. Do you want anything else? Sara also brought you some bread and stew."

Hanson shook his head. "No, thanks." He felt another wave building in his arm and tried to prepare for it. He took a deep breath and prayed that the pills would be strong enough to at least stop the spasms. He put down the thermos and wrapped his good arm around his legs and pulled them up into the smallest ball he could make.

"Should I wake your partner?" Stokes asked putting a hand on his shoulder.

"No," Hanson said into his knees. "Let him sleep. He can't do anything more than you have. Please just give me a few minutes."

"Okay," Stokes said and Hanson felt his presence move away from him.

Hanson stayed in his self made cocoon even between the undulating spasms. He didn't want attention and it was just easier to be prepared. After what seemed like eons, the pain did dull. It was still ever present and throbbing but it was slightly more distant so that he could actually think a little bit. The first thing he noticed beyond his arm was the ocean waves, the constant rhythm lulling him to relax. He tried to concentrate on them but soon his mind started pounding him again with the same questions he'd been trying to escape from for days. Why didn't he save Amy? Why didn't he do the thousands of things he could have to at least _try_ to save her? Was he going to be able to find a way through this hell? Why should he? Why should he be given another chance? Amy wasn't going to get a second chance. How was he going to be able to face everyone? And, how was he ever going to be able to face himself again?

He thought back to when his dad had died. How was he able to move on from that? Of course, it had been different. He still had lots of regrets but he hadn't been there when his dad had been killed. It hadn't been his fault. And, his mom had fallen apart with the loss of her husband so he wasn't able to just lie down or crawl into a hole like he had wanted to so many times. All of the decisions and duties surrounding the funeral, burial, finances - hell, even food and laundry - had fallen on him. And the media and court appearances that he'd been shuffled around to while he was still half in shock and the statements that had been shoved in his hands that he'd read without understanding the words. They were beyond hell. The thought of them still made his heart race.

Even accepting his dad's stupid Medal of Valor he had done himself while his mom sat catatonic in the crowd. He remembered standing in front all of those expectant faces in uniform. He had just forced a smile around the huge rock in his throat and stared at a piece of paper that contained a few brief words that his dad's partner, Charlie, had written down that were supposed to be included in some profound speech. But the speech never happened. He had been so furious with everyone by that point. What the hell had they wanted him to say? Thank you?

Since that night, though, he'd berated himself for not being strong enough to say something, anything, even if he would have blubbered through it. He had full speeches in his head that he had given over and over to himself about what a great cop, friend, husband and dad Officer Thomas Hanson Sr. had been. But not a word had left his mouth. Briody had apologized to him later for having the ceremony too early after his dad's death, something about a bill and state legislative session timeline but, even so, his dad had deserved more than just a fake smile and nod of the head.

What a complete failure he'd been.

Nope, he was pretty sure he and his mom would not be shining examples of the proper way to honor and mourn the dead. He knew that personally he'd skipped a few of the 'steps' with his dad. To this day, the loss still felt raw and talking about his dad continued to be as hard now as it had been since the night he died. That most likely wasn't a good thing.

Of course, none of that really mattered. Amy was different. Instead of just dealing (or stumbling forward) with the aftermath, with Amy he had been there.

Sweet, adorable Amy. She had been so beautiful and caring. A good match for him? No. But, she would have been an incredible wife and mother for someone else. That would never happen now. No, he had had a gun and a badge that had sat uselessly under his jacket while he watched her die taking away any chance of her having a future, any future. He could have done something that would have, theoretically at least, kept her alive but didn't. And afterwards, he didn't do any of the things he was supposed to do. He didn't go to the funeral. Didn't talk to her family. Didn't let the detectives do their job the right way.

So, what was he going to do now? By far the easiest thing would be to keep moving, to get as far away as possible. Penhall was still asleep. With an excuse to have to use the restroom, he could easily slip by Stokes. He could pretend he was someone else. To do what? He had no idea.

But what would he leave behind? An even bigger trail of destruction? What would happen to his mom? What would happen to Penhall, the person he'd become surprisingly firmly attached to in just a couple of years of being partners and friends?

Would Frisk be let go if he wasn't there to testify? Was that fair to Amy's family? Even though he was used to testifying and even facing up to some dumb moves, getting up and talking about something so personal and explaining _these_ mistakes in front of everyone would be….. He couldn't even think of a word that would properly capture how excruciating that would be. He couldn't do it. It would be impossible for him to sit up in front of Frisk and Fuller and Amy's family and his peers and tell them how stupid and selfish he was.

Hanson rested his forehead on his knees and pulled them in a little closer to his chest. A lump had formed in his throat that threatened to choke him to death. He heard Stokes move behind him like he was getting up, moving the chair closer to him then sitting down again. Great. The old man had no idea what he had been coerced into. Hanson didn't even know what color Stokes' eyes were. He hadn't bothered to get himself to look into his eyes.

But he did remember what Stokes had said: that his penance for his wrongdoings was to do the hard stuff so others didn't have to. Hanson wondered what exactly Stokes had done wrong and what he did that was so hard. Did it really compare or was he just being "helpful"? He thought about asking but then decided not to. A conversation would lead to questions that he still wasn't prepared to answer.

But that was it, wasn't it? Doing what's unfathomably difficult and painful as a self-imposed punishment to try to make retribution for his mistakes. Like being around for Amy's family and preparing them for when they'd have to face Frisk. And testifying and making sure that justice will be served for Amy, as if there would be any justice. Talking to the doctors and shrinks and letting them poke and prod him until he was "better." Facing Internal Affairs and, even worse, Fuller. What had Fuller said? 'Things will never be the same between us.' He couldn't think about how he'd betrayed Fuller now too. It was too much.

Hanson took in a deep breath and let it out slowly to try to contain the panic that was building in him as he faced the reality that, in the end, he didn't really have a choice in what to do. As appealing as it was, running away wasn't feasible. Everyone would come after him and drag him back. And, no one, including himself, would benefit from him even trying. Well, that wasn't entirely true. Frisk would probably appreciate it.

"You're thinking too much."

Hanson blinked and focused not really knowing if someone had actually said that or if that statement was made in his own head.

"Officer Hanson, that's right, isn't it?"

Hanson looked over to see Stokes sitting next to him in his camping chair looking over his reading glasses again. Hanson nodded his head.

"I know it's none of my business," Stokes continued. "But sometimes there isn't an answer or there isn't one that will come without help."

Hanson made no response but was listening.

"What are you thinking so hard about?"

"I don't know," Hanson responded. "Everything, I guess. What happened. What I'm going to do now."

"Have you come to any conclusions?" Stokes asked taking off his glasses.

"I have to go back but I don't know if I can," Hanson said quietly more to himself than to Stokes.

Stokes looked out at the ocean and took a deep breath. "Yeah, I can understand that. Well, here's my sage advice for you. If you come to a fork in the road, take it."

Hanson looked up and stared at him. "You're quoting Yogi Berra?"

Stokes smiled. "I'm impressed. My grandkids would have dismissed that as grandpa being senile again." Stokes paused looking like he was considering whether he should continue or not. "It's really shitty when you can't fix what you think you've broken. But sometimes life hands you a crappy hand and you still should play it the best you can because chances are that the next hand will be better. Life goes on as long as you stay in the game." Stokes snorted. "I would have punched anyone who would have said that to me when I was younger."

Hanson did feel himself get angry but then he really didn't have a right to get angry with Stokes. It wasn't Stokes' idea to get pulled into his mess.

"I'm not helping," Stokes said as he leaned down and opened a cooler that was sitting next to him. The cooler made an awful creaking sound as plastic rubbed against plastic. He pulled out of it a small thermos and a Ziploc bag of bread. "Here, eat something. Sara's specialty is homemade comfort food. It always makes me feel better and it would hurt her feelings if you didn't eat."

Doug rolled over and sat up. "Did someone mention something about homemade food?"

Hanson gave a slight grin to Stokes and took the thermos and bread and handed it over to Doug. Stokes took two more thermoses out of the cooler and gave one to Hanson then dug in the bottom of the cooler for spoons to hand out.

"How long have you been awake?" Doug asked as he took the lid off of his food and dug in. "Holy, this is good!"

"Not long," Hanson answered taking a bite of his own stew. He had no appetite but didn't want to be rude to people who were being so sincerely kind to them. The stew tasted surprisingly amazing and he instantly felt the warm food energizing his body. He ate slowly to make sure his stomach wasn't going to revolt but with every bite, he felt his mood improve. So, apparently, the temporary cure for the world crashing down was Mrs. Stokes' Stew. Of course, this was when he started to think again about how unfair it was that he should be there eating food with a good friend and a good Samaritan when Amy couldn't. He stopped mid-bite and put the spoon back in the thermos. Stokes and Doug must have noticed since they both stopped shoveling food in their mouths as well.

He struggled to put the cover back on the thermos with one good hand and arm and finally managed it and handed it over to Stokes. As he did, it suddenly struck him that he recognized the conflicting thoughts and emotions. The glimmer of good that he felt he had to squash with the mountain of bad. The same thing went on for a long time with his dad. Apparently, it wasn't going to be different with Amy. He was going to have to do the same things again that had ripped apart his insides when his dad died. It was going to be unbearable but he'd survived it once. Even if he didn't make it this time, he owed it to everyone to at least try.

It was time to surrender, to swallow his poison and get on with it. He took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. "Thanks for everything. I mean, both of you, for, I don't know, all this."

There was still silence beyond the sound of the waves crashing over the shore. Hanson looked at Doug. Doug's eyebrows were knit together so tight they almost looked like a unibrow.

"Are you okay driving back?" he asked Penhall to try to break the tension.

"Yeah, but, are you okay?"

Hanson shook his head. "No, but I'm better than I was this morning." He tried out a smile. It didn't quite feel right so he let it drop. "How much trouble have I gotten you into?"

Doug's unibrow turned into a look of surprise then a smirk. "We might be going back to the academy again." Doug poked him in the arm. "No skipping out on me this time though, got it?"

Hanson didn't dare point out that his badge could very well already be permanently gone. His heart jumped in his chest at the thought of not being a cop and not working with Penhall every day. What would he do? Flounder, that's what. Hanson stopped himself from going down that road. He needed to take one step at a time. The first would be to make a promise. Determined, he looked directly at Penhall. "No skipping out on you."

**xxxxxxxxx**

**Reviews much appreciated!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Next chapter. Reviews much appreciated!**

**Chapter 11: 3 Point Something Days**

"Penhall!"

Doug turned around to see Fuller marching towards him with a look of murder in his eyes. Oh, great. Here it comes. Doug pushed off from the wall he'd been standing against for the last thirty minutes and walked toward imminent death.

"Where the hell have you two been?" Fuller bellowed when they reached each other. Penhall motioned to the small seating area outside Hanson's room where he had been screamed at by Amy's sister only a day earlier. Crazy. It seemed like months ago. Penhall had intended to sit down but it didn't look like Fuller wanted to give up his rant just yet so he just stood by a chair.

"We went for a drive and ended up in some small beach town down the coast. We just hung out there for awhile then came back."

"Are you out of your mind? Just hung out there?" Fuller seethed.

Doug's eyes went wide. It did sound pretty stupid. "Hanson needed a break, Captain," Doug quickly defended. "He asked for my help. And, I couldn't exactly tie him down to the bed."

"No, but you could have convinced him to stay put. Damn it, Penhall! Do you have any idea, I mean any clue as to how much damage having to send a search party out for you two has done?"

"We were only gone for like six hours. Everyone was hovering over him including Amy's entire family. Hanson _hates_ that. Hell, any one of us would have been scratching the walls to get out of here." Doug paused. "Damage to what?"

"I swear, you two are going to…" Fuller took a deep breath and it must have cooled off some of the steam in his head or he just decided to give up because he sat down and pinched his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "Tell me what's going on now."

Doug cautiously took a seat across from Fuller. "Hanson asked me to call the shrink when we got back. They've been talking for the last forty minutes or so."

"Hanson asked for the department psychiatrist?" Fuller asked skeptically.

Doug nodded his head. "Yeah, it sure as hell wasn't my idea."

Fuller sighed and let go of his nose. "And what exactly were you doing during those six hours?"

Oh good. Somewhat rational Fuller was back. "Driving, talking some. We took a nap on the beach then drove back" Doug stopped there. He didn't think Fuller needed to know about their little 'experiment' with Mr. Stokes.

"You snuck Hanson out of the hospital to take a nap?"

Alright, that sounded stupid too. "Well, no, that wasn't exactly the plan. But I didn't sleep much last night and he, well, kind of broke down a little."

Fuller's lips formed a thin line. Not a good thing. Doug needed to do some damage control.

"It wasn't bad, really. And, I don't know how to explain it but it seems like something clicked with him. Hell, he asked for the shrink. That's gotta mean something." Doug stopped. "What do you mean about damage? How different is lying around here versus in a car?"

Fuller looked towards Hanson's room. "I'm going to make a couple of phone calls. Stay here." Fuller got up and walked off giving no other explanation.

Doug was dumbfounded. He'd never seen Fuller that distracted. Apathetic? Hell yes. Head in the clouds? No way. He began to wonder if he had wandered into an alternate reality, one where people were their opposites. The most put together people (Hanson and Fuller) were the ones flopping around and the ones who had no clue (i.e. him) were the ones making sense for once. Doug sat back in the chair and leaned his head against the back. He wondered what he would be doing if that were truly the case. Would Dorothy drool over him like she always said she would if he got his act together? Would they end up in suburbia driving a Crown Victoria, maybe a Chevy Caprice with wood paneling? He pictured himself with a thick mustache and slicked hair wearing a light pink short sleeve oxford shirt with a sweater around his shoulders and carrying around a tumbler of something amber. He shuddered at the thought then snickered to himself. He definitely needed to keep his head in the right reality.

"Yes, sir. I'll stay right here," he muttered under his breath.

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"How's he doing?"

"All things considered, he's doing okay. I just gave him a painkiller for his arm that's going to help him rest. How long have you been waiting?"

"Not that long. I had some calls to make."

"It looks like Douglas has had a long day."

At the mention of his name, Doug opened his eyes. He must have fallen asleep in the chair because he didn't remember Fuller returning or the shrink showing up. They watched him as he attempted to sit up straight but the chair must have impaled his back because, ouch! He contorted his body until he managed to put pressure on his butt instead of his back.

"Sorry, I must have fallen asleep," Doug said rubbing his eyes. He felt a little woozy from waking and yawned and stretched to try to work out the kink in his back. "What's going on with Hanson?"

"He's resting," Enlow said smiling at him before looking back at Fuller to resume their conversation. "As long as Tom has a relatively okay night, I'll release him from the hospital tomorrow morning. I've set up a schedule to meet with him for the next few weeks and he's agreed to take an anti-depressant that I hope will tame the nightmares he's been having and lessen some of his other symptoms."

"You're releasing him?" Doug asked surprised. He thought for sure Hanson would be stuck in hospital hell for days.

"Yes, considering the circumstances, I think it's the better option," Enlow stated. "I would like to minimize the time that he is alone though. Tom said he could stay with his mom but can I depend on you both to work with his mom so that Tom is not spending extended periods by himself?"

Doug stared at him. "Yeah, of course, but Hanson is going…."

"To feel like he is being smothered," Enlow finished for him. "He said as much. But, he seems to understand that isolating himself like he has been was not helping him or anyone else. Just follow your instincts, Douglas. You've already helped him with a difficult hurdle today."

Doug looked at him doubtfully. There was no question that he would spend as much time with Hanson as he could but Tom was the type of person who needed space. They drove each other nuts after awhile and knowing and respecting each other's limits was what made their friendship work.

"What should I tell homicide?" Fuller asked.

"Tom can do the interrogation," Enlow answered. "But I would like to be there."

"What?" Doug asked. "What interrogation?" Doug looked between Fuller and Enlow and saw them share a look. "You mean Frisk? You can't be serious."

Fuller let out a loud breath. "Penhall, homicide believes Frisk could be responsible for a series of robberies and shootings that occurred a year ago. They stopped when Frisk was in prison for aggravated assault but started again with Amy's killing. Frisk isn't cooperating but the detectives want to see if Hanson can get him to talk."

"Are you out of your mind? He's having a hard enough time as it is," Doug complained loudly realizing only when the words had left his mouth that he was sounding a bit too much like Fuller. "Jeez, the guy killed Amy! How is putting Hanson under more pressure to get this guy to talk going to help?"

"I agree that it's a risk," Enlow said holding up his hand to try to calm him. "But, it seems that Hanson would have a harder time sitting still and not trying to help other families get some closure. Wouldn't you agree?"

Doug opened his mouth to argue but then closed it. Of course, Hanson would want to do whatever he could, especially since he had the whole guilt thing going on but this was way too much to expect from him. Doug glared at Fuller. Well, at least _he_ had the decency to look ashamed for once. "And you're complaining about me taking him for a car ride for a few hours." Doug jumped up from his chair in a huff. "This is crazy. I shouldn't have brought him back."

Doug stomped away before he said more that he might regret later. He stopped in front of Hanson's room, opened the door and peaked in. Hanson was huddled under the blankets and lying slightly on his side. He looked like he was sleeping so Doug snuck in and tiptoed to the chair by his bed and sat down. As soon as he did, Hanson's eyes opened.

"Hey," Doug said with a small smile.

Hanson smirked. "Sounds like you put Fuller in his place."

"You heard that?" Doug asked now embarrassed. "Man, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It was kind of my first reaction too." Hanson pushed down with his good arm to sit up more on the bed. It looked like he was struggling to stay awake though. His eyelids were moving way too slowly. "Damn, I feel like I drank a whole bottle of tequila."

"How would you know, Lightweight? Or, are you talking about one of those three ounce sample size bottles?"

Hanson snickered. "Shut up before I puke on you. Look, I can even poke my arm and I don't feel anything." At this Hanson took his finger and snapped his injured arm. "Ow, oh, maybe I still feel something."

Doug stood up and pulled Hanson's hand away so he'd stop hurting himself. "Knock that off! Jeez, what did the shrink give you?"

Hanson laid his head back on the pillows and looked up at him with drowsy eyes.

"I should let you sleep."

"Hmmmm..," Hanson murmured closing his eyes.

"You know they want you to interview Frisk?"

"Hmm?" Hanson muttered. "Yeah."

"You know don't have to do that, right?"

"Yeah, I do. I've got to try," Hanson said opening his eyes. "Don't worry, Penhall. There isn't much I could do to make things worse than they already are."

"Worse for homicide or for you?"

Hanson closed his eyes again. He was clearly losing his battle with sleep. His body was deflating right in front of Doug's eyes. "Both I guess." Hanson's breathing evened out more and Doug sat down again thinking he'd fallen asleep. "Thanks for today," Hanson said quietly. "I actually felt a little human again."

"Sure, no problem." It was clear that arguing wasn't going to make any difference so Doug wasn't even going to try.

"I'm really sorry I dragged you into this. I know you hate this stuff. You don't need to stay."

"I'm not going anywhere," Doug said quietly to match Hanson's voice. "For purely selfish reasons, of course. Doug McQuaid doesn't sound nearly as cool as 'The McQuaid Brothers, hah'."

Hanson gave a very slight smile and whispered, "Hah."

**End of Chapter**


	12. Chapter 12

**Next installment. My apologies for the long time between chapters.**

**Chapter 12: 4 Days**

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Doug stopped pacing in the small review room downtown and leaned over Hanson's shoulder to see what file he was reviewing. Hanson's shoulders rose and Doug saw him clamp his hand tighter on the file.

"Will you sit down? You're making me nervous."

Doug took one more trip around the table and thumped himself down so he could face Hanson. He picked up another of the files from a large pile stacked on the desk and opened it. Sally McGovern, 33, mother of two, shot point blank in the chest at a bank ATM, assailant made off with a whopping $100. Doug looked over at Hanson. They'd been at it for over two hours. First a brief with homicide then reviewing all of the cases they think Frisk was involved in. It was clear to Doug that Hanson was reaching the end of his attention span, not that it had been that great to begin with. He'd usually be flying through files somehow memorizing every detail in them but today Doug could tell he was having a hard time getting through each page. And now, he'd been staring at the same piece of paper for the last five minutes.

"Hey, you're burning a hole in that file. How about a break?"

No response beyond a deeper furrowing of Hanson's brows.

Doug waved his hand in front of Hanson's face. "Helloooo?"

"Huh?"

"Stop staring at the paper, man. You're freaking me out."

Hanson tore his eyes away to look at Doug. "Don't you think it's weird that Frisk would keep using the same gun for Amy and the clerk but had changed guns for each assault before his last arrest? Wouldn't he be more careful after getting out?"

Doug scoffed and picked up another file. "Even better is Mrs. Jackson here who was stabbed multiple times in front of the 7-11 on Walnut Street. Yeah, right." Doug stared at Mrs. Jackson's sad eyes. He'd have bet his best fitting jeans that she had pissed off her crack addicted son a little too much and he had killed her for her $13.87. "Homicide really expects us to weed all these out for them?"

Hanson stared at his file again. "With an average of $56 per robbery, you'd have to do a couple of robberies just to pay for another gun."

Doug smiled. There was his Tommy Hanson. Doing averages in his head.

"I doubt Frisk is going to be named 'armed robber of the year'. Not the brightest light in the Christmas tree is he?" Doug paused. "Were all the bullets from different guns?"

"As far as I can see. It's hard to tell just by looking at the rounds though. You wanna get it checked?"

"Not really."

Hanson glared at him.

"Kidding, kidding," Doug smirked standing up from the table and pulling all the files away from Hanson and putting them out of reach. "I'll get Richert. Take a break while I'm gone okay?"

21JS21JS21JS21JS21JS21JS21JS21JS21JS21JS21JS21JS

After Doug left the room, Hanson rubbed his eyes with his good hand. This was wearing him out which was kind of bullshit. He usually could go for hours without a break but today from the moment homicide walked out of the room his mind kept wandering. At least he was doing something besides sitting at home though. The shrink was right. Having too much isolated idle time to ponder Amy's death had not been helpful.

Hanson stood up from the table wincing only slightly as he felt the hole in his arm pull and went to the rain-spattered window. It overlooked the parking lot and hadn't been washed in who knows how long but it was a window. Normally, he and Doug were locked in the basement somewhere when they were doing research. Either someone felt sorry for them or the detectives had some pull.

Hanson sighed and put his hand in his jeans pocket. From it he pulled out an old watch face. He hadn't really had a chance to look at it since Stokes had forced him to take it so now he held it close to look at the face. It was old, really old. The face said Leonidas and had a small dial inside the main face that Hanson couldn't figure out what on earth it could be for. There was a crack on the face and the glass was worn as if it had been rubbed incessantly for many years. Hanson turned the watch over and looked at the back. At one time it looked like there had been an inscription but it too had been worn so he couldn't make out the words. Hanson knew the keepsake was supposed to help him and he was touched that the old man had reluctantly relinquished it to a stranger. Well, lent it to a stranger was more appropriate. The watch was going to make it back to Stokes one way or another.

As Hanson looked at the watch, he felt a little bad. It obviously meant less to him than it did to Stokes – was more of a burden to take care of instead of a source of comfort - but there was still something intriguing about it. Was the watch from someone Stokes had lost or from someone he took? Would having something of Amy's provide him a compass the same way the watch did for Stokes? The thought sent shivers down his spine. No. No, it was too close, too soon for something like that. He wasn't ready to face her, not yet. The watch burned in his hand and he quickly put it back in his pocket and took a deep breath to try to calm the trembling in his arms.

"Maybe he had a source that he lost," Richert said as he opened the door and walked in the room. Hanson turned to see him followed by Doug. "I know that he's probably not responsible for all of the cases but these fit his profile."

"The stabbing? Really?" Doug asked plopping himself down again.

"Mrs. Johnson is his aunt," Richert said annoyed.

Hanson shared a look with Doug as if to say "oh". They were missing obvious connections. That wasn't good. Hanson turned to Richert. "Did you talk to her?"

"Yes, but she suffered brain damage and doesn't remember much." Richert said sitting down. "Hanson, we checked ballistics. Don't you see anything else you can use here?"

"I hope you're kidding," Doug threatened. "He got out of the hospital four hours ago."

Richert held up a hand as if to say 'I'm sorry' and started to gather the pile of files to take with him. "I'll have ballistics double check the rounds and see if we get some matches. I guess we'll see you tomorrow. I'll tell holding to wait a couple of days before moving Frisk."

Hanson stared at the files and felt that damn watch burning a hole in his leg. It suddenly was so heavy that it felt like it was going to literally tear a hole in his jeans and fall out. Hanson knew it was all in his head but why? Then it hit him.

"No, wait."

Richert was just about to pick up the pile but stopped to look at Hanson. "What?"

"Can I see what you found on him?"

Richert's shoulders slumped and he dropped his head in exasperation. Hanson could see that Richert was seriously regretting requesting that he interview Frisk. "It wasn't much, Hanson. You saw the list. Maybe we should just forget this."

"No, can I just see?"

"Fine, I'll be right back," Richert said rolling his eyes and leaving the room.

Doug looked at him for an explanation but Hanson continued to stare at the files, the watch in his pocket getting heavier and heavier with each passing second. Thankfully, Richert returned less than a minute later with a large manila envelope that he proceeded to dump carefully onto the table. The three of them gathered around the small table to examine the contents. It indeed wasn't much: the gun that killed Amy, a pack of cigarettes, a small stained crack pipe, a book of matches. Then, there it was: a small golden pendant in the shape of a tiger's head. Some kind of red gemstones were used for the eyes making the tiger appear fierce.

Hanson stared at the tiger but didn't dare touch it. His stomach tightened in frustrating with himself. He'd never ever been suspicious before but being near these stupid inanimate objects that had been touched by Amy's killer was making his skin crawl. Damn it. He needed to get over that. He refocused his attention to the pile of files and started to open each one quickly glancing only at the 'before' pictures and each family's list of missing items.

**Reviews welcome and appreciated.**


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